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A Soldier's Diary 

The Story of a Volunteer 



1862-1865 



*We are coming, Father Abraham, 
Three hundred thousand more.** 



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[ . J 8 K A RV of CiCiVfiKESSf 
I l*f Omwes rtectfiveu 1 

I JUN 15 HO? I 



Copyright, 1905, 
By David Lane. 






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PREFACE. 



This book is made up from my diary, which was 
sent home at frequent intervals, that my family and 
friends might know the details of my daily life. The 
events recorded were written down on the date of 
their occurrence, or while still fresh in my memory. 
In my comments on current events, I endeavored to 
"Nothing extenuate, nor set down aught in malice." 
but to give expression to my own convictions. 

I had no thought at the time, nor for many years 
after, of having it published, but, as the years sped 
on, and the old veterans of the Civil War were being 
rapidly mustered for final discharge, I have been 
urged by m.any old friends and comrades to publish 
it, that our children and grandchildren may realize 
something of the hardships and trials their ancestors 
cheerfully endured for love of country. 

I only regret that what I have tried to do has 
been so crudely done. 



The Story of a Volunteer. 



CHAPTER I. 

Fort Baker, D. C, Aug. 31st, 1862. 

I have already learned that — finding much leisure 
time upon his hands, after all soldierly duties have 
been performed — the private soldier naturally craves 
something to divert his mind, or, as he puts it, some- 
thing to pass away the time. To many men, so situ- 
ated, a game of cards is peculiarly fascinating. 
Others spend all their leisure time in fun and 
mischief; telling outlandish stories, singing vile songs, 
or playing practical jokes upon their fellows. 

Having neither taste or talent in either of these 
directions, I have deliberately resolved to keep a diary 
or memorandum of current events, and will transcribe, 
from day to day, the facts that interest me and the 
thoughts they may engender. I enlisted August 1 2th, 
1862, was mustered into the service of the United 
States on the 18th, and I was assigned to Company 
G, of the Seventeenth regiment of Michigan Volun- 
teer Infantry, then in barracks at Detroit, Michigan. 
Of the ninety-three enlisted men enrolled in Company 
G, sixty-five were farmers, ten laborers, five carpen- 
ters, six shoemakers, three clerks, one baker, one miller, 
one tinner, and one professional soldier. They range 
in age from the smooth-faced boy of sixteen years to 
the fully-developed man of thirty-eight. I judge about 
the same ratio will apply to the other companies of 



6 A Soldier's Diary. 

the regiment, with the exception of Company E, which 
is composed largely of students from the State Normal 
School at Ypsilanti. The regiment is largely made 
up of men verging on middle life.f who have left 
business, wife, and children, dearer to them than life, 
sternly resolved to meet death on the field of battle, 
rather than suffer rebellion to triumph and the Nation 
be torn asunder. We left the barracks at ten o'clock 
in the forenoon of August 27th, m.arched three miles 
to the wharf, where we left our baggage ; then escorted 
General Wilcox around the city until five o'clock p. 
m., when we marched on board the steamer Cleveland, 
bound for the City of Cleveland. 

The weather was fine, and we reached Cleveland 
at five o'clock the next morning, and immediately took 
cars for Washington, D. C, by way of Pittsburg 
and Baltimore. We arrived at Pittsburg at 7 p. m. 
of August 28th, and were most enthusiastically 
received, the whole population, seemingly, escorting 
us, with shouts, flags, and banners of various devices, 
to the City Hall, where a bountiful supper was spread 
for us. The hall was finely decorated. Among other 
m.ottoes was: "Pittsburg Welcomes Her Country's 
Defenders." 

We left Pittsburg at nine o'clock in the evening and 
reached Harrisburg the next day at 10 a. m., where 
we took breakfast; then, "All aboard for Baltimore." 
We crossed the Alleghenies in the night, but when 
morning dawned I went out on the platform and could 
still see them in the distance, rearing their blue heads 
in solemn grandeur, forming a most charming back- 



Story of a Volunteer. 7 

ground to the beautiful picture spread out before us. 
We were then running with lightning speed down the 
beautiful Juniata VaUey» about sixty miles above 
Harrisburg, and a more picturesque spot I never 
beheld. 

Hemmed in by long ranges of high hills, some 
running at right angles to the stream, others parallel 
with it, now rising in perpendicular bluffs with hardly 
room for the cars to pass, then receding, formed lovely 
valleys, dotted here and there with pleasant villages. 
We reached Baltimore about seven o'clock Friday 
evening, and were warmly greeted by the loyal citizens. 
After partaking of a hearty supper, we took cars for 
Washington at ten o'clock. 

We had expected a row in Baltimore, and were 
prepared for it, but nothing transpired of a more 
serious nature than a few personal encounters. One 
hot-headed fellow jumped on board the officers' car 
and demanded to see their colors, cursing Unionists 
and swearing vengeance. Lieutenant Somers, stirred 
by righteous indignation, struck him a heavy blow in 
the face and knocked him headlong from the car. A 
crowd gathered, swords and pistols flashed in the 
gaslight, epithets were exchanged, and there the mat- 
ter ended. 

We reached Washington Saturday morning, and 
were assigned to Fort Baker, six miles south of the 
city. 

Fort Baker is pleasantly situated on a high hill 
that overlooks the surrounding country for many miles. 
Fifty thousand troops are encamped in sight of us. 



8 A Soldier's Diary. 

September 4th, 1862. 

We have been three days in camp, and have fully 
recovered from the fatigues of our long journey. 
Drill is the order of the day, as it is the necessity of 
the hour. Officers and men have yet to learn the 
rudiments of military maneuvering. There is not a 
company officer who can put his men through com- 
pany drill without making one — or more — ludicrous 
blunders. Yesterday our First Lieutenant was drill- 
ing a squad of men. He was giving all his attention 
to "time," and did not notice a fence had planted 
itself directly across our path. Suddenly he shouted: 
*'Who — who — who! Come this way, you fellows 
in front — don't you see you are running into that 
fence?" 

On Monday morning one of the men had been 
cleaning his gun, and, wishing to know if it would 
burn a cap, laid it down for the purpose of getting 
one. When he returned, instead of picking up his 
own gun, he took a loaded one that belonged to a 
guard. As a result of his stupidity, the ball passed 
through two tents, entered a young man's heel and 
passed through his foot lengthwise, rendering him a 
cripple for life. Rumors were in circulation all day 
Tuesday of Rebel movements. At dusk twenty 
rounds of ammunition were distributed. We were 
then sent to our quarters to await orders. A spirit 
of unrest pervaded the camp. Men gathered in 
groups and whispered their conviction of a night 
attack. 



Story of a Volunteer. 9 

At nine o'clock a picket fired an alarm. The 
bugle sounded "To arms." Orderlies ran up and 
down the line of tents shouting. "Fall in! Fall in 
with your arms; the Rebels are upon us!" 

For a moment there was some confusion, but in 
less than five minutes we were in line, eager to meet 
the foe. But no enemy appeared. It was a ruse 
gotten up by the officers as an emergency drill, and, 
as such, it was a decided success. There were some 
ludicrous incidents, but, as a rule, the men buckled on 
their arms with promptness and appeared as cool as 
on dress parade. 

Yesterday morning, as we were forming for com- 
pany drill, a courier rode into camp with dispatches 
from headquarters. Five companies from our regi- 
ment were ordered to repair at once to Fort Gaines, 
eight miles distant, on the Virginia side of the Potomac. 
We started off briskly, but before we had gone a mile 
the order was countermanded, and we returned to 
camp. 

The news this morning is not encouraging. Gen- 
eral Pope has been defeated and driven back upon the 
fortifications around Washington, and the Rebels are 
trying to force their way across the Potomac. We 
are under marching orders. Rumor says we are to 
join Burnside's forces at Frederic City. 



10 A Soldier's Diary. 



CHAPTER II. 

Maryland Heights, Va., September 21st, 1862. 

Toward evening of the 1 3th we left Frederic City 
and marched out on the National Turnpike toward 
South Mountain, and halted for supper and a few 
hours rest near Middleton. It was nearly midnight. 
We had made a rapid march of several miles, and 
were tired, and hungry as wolves. Hardly had we 
stacked arms when Lieutenant Rath inquired: 
"Where's John Conley?" John could not be found; 
he was already off on an expedition of his own. 
"Well, then," said Rath, "send me the next best thief; 
I want a chicken for my supper." 

Our foragers soon returned; the Lieutenant got his 
chicken, and we privates were fairly well supplied 
with the products of the country. It strikes me as a 
little strange, the facility with which a soldier learns to 
steal his grub. It must be the effect of heredity. 
Perhaps, in the dim past, when our ancestors went on 
"all fours," and roamed the forests in search of food; 
possibly at a more recent date, but before a name was 
given to the deed; they formed the habit of taking 
what they wanted wherever it could be found, pro- 
vided they had the physical power, or mental cunning, 
to accomplish it, and this habit, thus formed, became 
instinct, and was transmitted to their descendants. At 



Story of a Volunteer. 11 

daylight we were on the move, headed for South 
Mountain. We had an inkling — how obtained I do 
not know; mental telepathy, perhaps, that occult, 
mysterious power that enables us to divine the most 
secret thoughts of men — that a mass meeting was to 
be held on that eminence to discuss the pros and cons 
of secession, and that we, the Seventeenth, had received 
a pressing invitation to be present. The Pike was in 
fine condition. Cur men stepped off briskly, with 
long, swinging strides that carried them rapidly over 
the ground. We marched in four ranks, by com- 
panies, and were led by our gallant Colonel With- 
ington. Company G was seventh from the front, 
v/hich gave me a view of over half the regiment. And 
it was good to look upon. Cnly two weeks from 
home, our uniforms were untarnished. Dress coats 
buttoned to the chin; upon our heads a high-crowned 
hat with a feather stuck jauntily on one side. White 
gloves in our pockets; a wonder we did not put them 
on, so little know we of the etiquette of war. 

As we neared the mountain, about nine o'clock in 
the morning, I scanned its rugged sides for indications 
of the presence of our friends, the enemy, and, as I 
looked, I saw a puff of smoke, and on the instant a 
shell sped howling above our heads, bursting some 
half a mile beyond. 

Every man of us "bowed his acknowledgments;" 
then, as by one impulse, every spine became rigid; 
every head was tossed in air; as if we would say: 
*'My Southern friend, we did the polite thing that time. 
No more concessions will you get from us and — may 



12 A Soldier's Diary. 

God have mercy on your souls." Of our exploits on 
South Mountain I will not write. They will be woven 
into history and will be within the reach of all. About 
thirty of our brave boys were killed, and over one 
hundred wounded. Captain Goldsmith was wounded 
in the shoulder and Lieutenant Somers in the side. A 
number of Company G boys were wounded, but none 
were killed in this battle. 

Eli Sears, the best, the most universally beloved of 
the regiment, is dead. He died the second day after 
the battle. A rifle ball, early in the engagement, struck 
him in the left breast and passed entirely through him. 
When I saw him he was so low he could only speak 
in whispers. He gave me his hand, with a pleasant 
smile, and told me he had but a few more hours to live. 
Bitterly do I mourn his loss. So kind, so thoughtful, 
always preferring another to himself. He died as heroes 
die, as calm and peaceful as an infant on its mother's 
breast. Albert Allen, Carmi Boice and Charlie 
Goodall were in the thickest of the light and escaped 
unhurt. 

The Seventeenth has been baptised in blood and 
christened "Stonewall." The battle of Antietam was 
fought on Wednesday, September 1 7th, three days 
after South Mountain. The Seventeenth did not lose 
so m^any in killed — eighteen or twenty, I think, although 
the list is not yet made out — and eighty or ninety 
wounded. Company G lost three killed, among whom 
was Anson Darling. We crossed the Antietam Rivei 
about I p. m., and about three o'clock charged up the 
heights, which we carried, and advanced to near 



Story of a Volunteer. 13 

Sharpsburg. Here, our ammunition giving out, we fell 
back behind the hill and quietly sat down 'mid burst- 
ing shells and hurtling balls until relieved. As we sat 
waiting, a spent ball— a six-pounder — struck a tree in 
front of us. Not having sufficient momentum to pen- 
etrate, it dropped back upon the toe of my comrade on 
my left. With a fierce oath he sprang to his feet and 
shouted, "Who the h— 1? Oh!" 

That night, while on picket, when all my comrades 
were wrapped in slumber, and silence reigned where, 
a few hours before, the tumult of battle raged, my 
willing thought turned to my Northern home. The 
most vivid pictures arose before me — so real — could 
they be imagination? And as I gazed upon these 
fancied visions and pressed them to my soul as a 
living reality, I asked myself the question, **Can this 
be homesickness?" The answer came, quick and 
decisive: No; I have never seen the time — even for 
one short moment — that I could say to myself, "If I 
had not enlisted, I would not." On the contrary, if, 
after the little experience I have had, and the little 
knowledge I have gained, I had not enlisted, I would 
do so within the hour. 



14 A Soldier *s Diary. 



CHAPTER III. 

Antietam, September 27th, 1862. 
We have had one week of rest; are encamped three 
miles from our last battlefields, with a prospect of stay- 
ing here several weeks. There is much sickness, but 
nothing of a serious nature. As for myself, I have not 
seen an hour's sickness since I left Michigan. Our 
camp is pleasantly situated on a high hill, and the sur- 
rounding hills and valleys are white with tents. In 
the evening, when every tent is lighted up, they present 
a brilliant and beautiful appearance. Several regi- 
ments are supplied with brass bands, which delight us 
every evening with a "concord of sweet sounds." Last 
evening the Fiftieth Pennsylvania serenaded the 
"Bloody Seventeenth," as they call us. 

October 3d, 1862. 
We have moved camp three miles, and are now 
five miles above Harper's Ferry, on the banks of the 
Potomac. The days are extremely hot; the evenings 
deliciously cool, and mornings cold. We had a grand 
division review this morning, in honor of the President, 
who favored us with his presence. My curiosity was 
gratified by seeing a "live President," and, above all, 
"Old Abe." He looks much better than the like- 
nesses we see of him — younger, and not so long and 
lank. 



Story of a Volunteer. 15 

Strange rumors have been in circulation for several 
days — rumors of compromise; of almost unconditional 
surrender. What does it all mean? Is there a bare 
possibility the Rebels have had enough of it? That 
"chivalry" will acknowledge itself whipped by "mud- 
sills," and ask for peace, while they have six hundred 
thousand men in the field? As far as the rank and 
file of this army is concerned, we would like to see 
them "line up" in front of us and fight it out, and 
have done with it. 

Pleasant Valley, October 9th, 1 862. 
We moved from Antietam day before yesterday, in 
order, as reported, to be nearer our supplies. How- 
ever, as soldiers know nothing of movements until after 
they are made, we may leave here today. As I was 
writing the last sentence, I learned we are to move this 
afternoon, about two miles, where we will have more 
room and better accommodations. The order to 
march is always welcome to me. I hate the monotony 
of camp life. The same is true of nearly all our regi- 
ment. We want to finish up our work and go home 
to our families — for nearly all have families. From 
our old camp to the present one is about twelve miles 
— the toughest twelve miles I ever traveled. Our 
route lay over the Elk Ridge Mountain, about six 
miles winding up its steep, rocky sides, the remaining 
half down the opposite side, the midday sun pouring 
his fierce rays against its rocky surface, making the 
heat well-nigh unbearable. There was not even a 
whispering breeze to cool our throbbing brows. Two 



16 A Soldier's Diary. 

men of our brigade melted down and died, while 
hundreds fell out by the way and came straggling into 
camp next morning. The movement was foolishly 
conducted on the principle of a forced march when 
there was no call for haste. I was quite lame at the 
time, having cut a deep gash in my heel a few days 
before, which compelled me to walk on the toe of that 
foot. This made walking over such a road and for 
so long a distance rather difficult. I fell behind the 
regiment for the first time, but came into camp about 
sundown. Some companies left nearly every man by 
the roadside. 

On Friday Robert Covert and myself went down 
to the river to wash our clothing. The day was hot, 
and Robert went in to bathe. I was sitting on the 
shore, in company with others of my regiment, dream- 
ily watching the sportive antics of the bathers, when 
my attention was attracted to Robert by what I 
thought to be a peal of laughter. With an exclama- 
tion of horror I sprang to my feet. 'My God, boys, 
he's sinking, drowning!" He had made but two or 
three strokes when taken with cramps and rendered 
helpless. I will long remember the pleading look, 
the agonized cry, as he rose to the surface. There 
was no time for thought; he was going down the 
second time; in a moment he will be beyond our reach 
I cannot swim, but I seized a long pole and plunged 
in. It was not quite long enough to reach the place 
where he went down, but at that instant a man 
stripped for a swim rushed past me, and, holding to 
the end of my pole, threw his shirt to Robert as he 



Story of a Volunteer. 17 

came to the surface. He caught it, and we pulled 
him to the shore. 

I am frequently asked how I like soldiering. For 
a wonder, I am not disappointed. If anything, it is 
more endurable than I expected to find it. There are 
hardships — as a matter of fact, it is all hardship — but 
I was prepared for all that. I expected to suffer — 
to endure — and find myself the gainer by it. While 
others say: **If I had known, I would not have 
enlisted," I can say with truth I am glad I did. If I 
can be of service to my country, I will be satisfied! 
That which troubles and annoys me most, 
others do not seem to mind. It is the 
intolerable, nauseating stench that envelops a 
military camp. My olfactories have become so 
acutely sensitive I can smell an encampment 
**afar off." Many complain of the strictness of 
military discipline. That does not trouble me. The 
law is a "terror to evil doers." I am thankful for the 
many kind friends I have found here. I hail with 
delight the President's proclamation. I believe it is 
a step in the right direction. 

October 1 2th. 
It is now nine o'clock of a Sabbath evening, and as 
I pen these lines my wife and children, perhaps are 
listening to words of peace as they fall from the lips 
of their beloved pastor. How vividly memory recalls 
the past, and, as of old, we seem to walk the well- 
known path to the house of worship, to join with dear 
friends in singing hymns of praise, and to receive 



18 A Soldier's Diary. 

instruction from the Word of God. How great 
the contrast between past and present. 

Instead of pursuing the peaceful avocations of life, 
surrounded by my loved family. I find myself separated 
from them by many a weary mile, and surrounded by 
the savage enginery of war. Even as I write I hear 
the booming of cannon in the direction of Harper's 
Ferry. Last evening, while mustering for dress parade 
we received orders for every able-bodied man to get 
ready to march with only their guns, ammunition and 
blankets, in the shortest possible time. 



Story of a Volunteer. 19 



CHAPTER IV. 

Pleasant Valley, October 1 7th, 1 862. 

Being in a wakeful mood, I will try and compose 
my mind by writing a few lines in my diary, for we 
have become great friends — yes, confidantes — and 
tonight I need a confidante. Did I ever tell you, my 
silent friend, of my Northern home; of wife and chil- 
dren, loving and beloved? Then listen, while I whis- 
per in your ear the sacred secret. I have a wife and 
four small children far off in Michigan. I love them 
with all the intensity and devotion of my nature. The 
thought of them is ever uppermost in my mind. In 
the daily, monotonous rounds of duty; in the long, 
dreary evenings, when folly reigns; in the stillness of 
the night; on the rugged, toilsome march, or in the 
tumult of battle, thoughts of the dear ones at home arc 
ever present, inspiring me with hope, encouraging me 
to duty, a shield against temptation, a beacon light, 
shining out upon the stormy sea of strife on which my 
frail bark is launched, enabling me, thus far, to shun 
the rocks and quicksands that surround me. 

Our regiment returned today from Frederic, where 
it has been guarding the railroad. We hear that Gen- 
eral Wilcox, Colonel Fenton and Colonel Withington 
are to be promoted. We are heartily glad their emi- 
nent services are about to be rewarded by the Govern- 
ment. They are men of marked ability, and have well 



20 A Soldier's Diary. 

earned their honors. Although it will take from us 
our gallant Colonel, there is some compensation even 
in that. It will leave the regiment in command of 
Lieutenant Colonel Luce, who is beloved by all our 
men. We have heard heavy cannonading all day, but 
have not learned the result. It is rumored that we will 
move in a day or two — ^perhaps tomorrow. Where 
we go, even rumor sayeth not. Our men say it does 
not matter where, so they take us where work is to be 
done. Two men deserted from Co. G yesterday and 
two today. This splendid regiment that left Detroit 
two months ago nearly one thousand strong, mustered 
today, at inspection, two hundred and fifty-six men fit 
for duty. There are more sick than well, the result 
of insufficient supplies, and brutal, needless exposure 
of the men by officers high in rank. 

The weather is delightful — cold and frosty nights, 
with warm sunshiny days and pure, fresh, mountain 
breezes that should strengthen and invigorate, and yet, 
of all who came from Blackman and Sandstone, I 
alone am well. 

Camp near Lovetsville, Va., Oct. 28th. 
We bade farewell to Pleasant Valley, and started 
for the land of "Dixie" quite unexpectedly to us pri- 
vates. Orders were issued on Saturday to the differ- 
ent companies to have their things packed and be ready 
to move at daybreak next morning. We were 
aroused at three o'clock, prepared and ate our break- 
fast, and at five o'clock were on the march. It had 
rained some during the night, and morning gave prom- 



Story of a Volunteer. 21 

ise of a rainy day. Well did it fulfill its promise. 
About eight o'clock a drizzling rain set in, which 
continued until about one o'clock, when the wind 
changed to the north, increasing in violence until it 
blew a gale, which continued until morning, raining 
incessantly. The north winds here are very cold, and 
the poor soldiers, marching or standing all day in the 
rain, with sixty rounds of ammunition, three days' 
rations, knapsacks and blankets on their backs, passed 
a very uncomfortable day. But they bore it uncom- 
plainingly, and when, about sundown, we pitched our 
little "dog tents" on the soaked and muddy ground 
with shouts and merry jests, we made a break for the 
nearest fence, and soon each company had a pile of 
dry chestnut rails, with which we kept a roaring fire 
until morning. Many of the men were wet to the 
skin, and, too cold to sleep, could be seen at any 
hour of the night in circles round their blazing camp- 
fires, talking over past scenes or future prospects. As 
I passed from group to group through the brigade, I 
noticed a feeling of discontent, caused by a lack of 
confidence in our leaders. The men seemed to feel 
we are being outgeneraled; that Lee's army, and not 
Richmond, should be the objective point; that the 
rebellion can never be put down until that army is 
annihilated. When I returned to our company the 
boys had arranged it all — the President is to retire all 
generals, select men from the ranks who will serve 
without pay, and will lead the army against Lee, strike 
him hard and follow him up until he fails to come to 
time. So passed this fearful night away. 



22 A Soldier's Diary. 

Camp near Fredericksburg, Dec. 9th, 1 862. 
It has been a long time — fully five weeks — since I 
made the last entry in this journal. The forced 
marches, exposure, and insufficient food of the week 
preceding our arrival at this place had been too much 
even for me. It had rained or snowed almost contin- 
uously; we were out of reach of our supply train for 
seven days. Food gave out, but on we pressed. 
When we halted on the evening of our arrival, too 
utterly worn out to pitch a tent, I spread my blanket 
on the ground, threw myself upon it and slept the 
sleep of exhaustion. It rained during the night, and 
when I awoke I found myself lying in a pool of water 
that half covered me. My recollection of what 
occurred for several successive days is very vague; 1 
knew I was being cared for by somebody, somewhere; 
I had no cares, no anxious doubts or perplexing fears. 
If in pain, I had not sense to realize it. One morning- 
after, I do not know how many days, I awoke to 
consciousness; I heard a well-remembered step tripping 
across the floor and stop at my bedside, a soft, cool 
hand was pressed upon my brow; a sweet, familiar 
voice whispered in my ear: "You are better, dear; 
you will get well now." Nay, do not smile, thou 
unbelieving cynic, for from that hour — yes, from that 
instant — I began to mend. I learned afterward that 
I had been very low with some form of fever; that i 
was not taken to the hospital because my kind friencl 
and comrade, Orville Collier, had begged the privilege 
of nursing me in his own tent. I can now sit up, can 
walk about a little, and hope soon to be well. 



Story of a Volunteer. 23 



CHAPTER V. 

Camp near Fredericksburg, Dec. 28th, 1862. 

The battle of Fredericksburg has been fought and 
— lost. We are now engaged in the laudable occu- 
pation of making ourselves comfortable; building log 
huts to protect ourselves from the cold storms of 
winter. Our brigade — the First — ^was not engaged 
at Fredericksburg. We were commanded by Colonel 
Poe, a graduate of West Point, a man thoroughly 
versed in the art of war. He saw the utter hopeless- 
ness of the struggle, and, when the order came to 
advance, he flatly refused to sacrific his men in the 
unequal contest. Of course, he was put under arrest, 
and will be court-martialed, but he saved his men. 

The eighteen thousand slaughtered husbands and 
sons who fell at Fredricksburg does not comprise our 
greatest loss. This whole army, for the time being, 
is thoroughly demoralized. It has lost all confidence 
in its leaders — a condition more fatal than defeat. 

The leaders of the different corps do not work in 
unison. Our commander lacks the mental force to 
weld and bind these discordant, disintegrating elements 
into one solid, compact, adhesive mass, subject to his 
will and guided by his judgment; and herein lies the 
cause of our defeat. 



24 A Soldier's Diary. 

Everything has the appearance of a protracted 
stay. We cannot advance; the enemy is too strongly 
fortified; if he were not, we would give him time to 
do so. And yet it is dangerous to stay. It is all 
Government can do, with the river open and all avail- 
able transports, to furnish this great army with sup- 
plies. Should the river freeze, or the Rebels gain a 
position on its banks, we would be starved out in short 
order. 

December 29th. 1862. 
As I was sitting by my cosy fire last evening — for 
we have evenings here, long, dreary ones — thinking 
of past events and trying, with my weak vision, to 
pierce the dark future, the thought occurred to me — 
where is all the trust and confidence with which I 
started out, and which cheered and sustained me until 
our late defeat? Have we made no advance? 
Surely we have made blunders, but will we not profit 
by them? We are learning the art of war — time is 
required to change a citizen into a soldier. Our 
officers are being weighed — the light weights cast aside 
or relegated to their class — and the good work will 
go on until one is found of size and weight to cope 
with Lee. 'Tis said, "Great generals are born, not 
made;" that true greatness is also modest, and does 
not vaunt itself; but our President is on the lookout 
for him and will find him — never fear — one who has 
the genius to plan, the will to do, the nerve to dare. 
As I pondered, hope returned and all my gloomy 
forebodings fled away. 



Story of a Volunteer. 25 

As I was about to retire for the night, our door was 
thrown open and some letters were handed in. 
Among them was one for me. I recognized the well- 
known hand — tore open the envelope, and, aftei 
perusing the welcome contents over and over again, 
I went to bed and dreamed of home. 

Inexpressibly dear, to the soldier, are letters from 
home. It is interesting to stand by as the mail is being 
distributed, and, as the names are called, witness tha 
animated, joyful expression that illuminates the coun- 
tenance of the happy recipients, while those less fa- 
vored retire to their tents disappointed and sad. 

Captain Goldsmith has returned, but will not stay 
long, as he has sent in his resignation. The regiment 
is hard at work building winter quarters. Our houses 
are all built after the same pattern — eight feet by ten 
in size, five feet high — rafters one-fourth pitch, cov- 
ered with tent cloth. The different companies are 
separated by streets one rod wide. The men do not 
work with very good heart, as they expect orders to 
leave as soon as finished. They say this has been 
their experience in the past. 

Contrary to expectations, the health of the men 
does not improve with frosty nights. Diarrhea, colds 
and rheumatism prevail, with now and then a case of 
fever. 

January 15th, 1863. 

Our shanties are completed, and we moved in yes- 
terday. They are warm and dry, and cannot but 
affect the health of the men favorably. I received a 
letter from home last night, and great was my aston- 



26 A Soldier's Diary. 

ishment to see, on reading it, an indictment against one 
dearer to me than life, and in whose behalf I plead 
"Not guilty." 

My poor, wounded, suffering wife; what could 
have put such thoughts into your mind? 
Have you not always been the most tender, 
the most loving, of wives? Have you not 
always been by my side to advise, assist, uphold 
and sustain me? Have you not watched over me, 
in sickness and in health, and nursed me with more 
than a mother's tenderness? Have you not borne 
poverty without a murmur for my sake; and still, as 
a wife, you are a failure? Oh, banish such thoughts 
from your mind, for, I do assure you, they come of an 
over-sensitive imagination. You say you have always 
been a clog to my feet. No, no! I have been my 
own clog. The error was in the start. Youthful 
ignorance and folly added to the advice of men in 
whom I confided, but whose council proved a snare 
started me in the wrong direction, and I have con- 
tinued to Hoat downward with the tide. But, dear, 
I have no regrets. My life has been happy beyond 
the lot of most men, and what, my beloved, has made 
it so? Certainly not the pleasures of wealth or 
honors conferred by man. What, then, but the never- 
failing, self-sacrificing power of love which you have 
always lavished on your husband that has bound him 
to you with cords stronger than bands of steel? The 
only things I craved when I was sick were the tender 
accents of your voice and your dear hand upon my 
brow. 



Story of a Volunteer. 27 

There seems to be a bond of sympathy between us 
that knows no bounds — is not confined by space. 
Many times since I left home have I visited you, or 
received your visits, and the impression left was that of 
reality. Last night, after I retired to rest — before 1 
went to sleep, for the boys were gathered around the 
fire and I could hear their jests and laughter — I held 
your hands in both of mine, trying to comfort and con- 
sole you, and it was real as reality itself. There is 
so much hollow-heartedness and deceit practiced here 
by men who, under the false guise of patriotism, seek 
wealth and position, that, had I all the world can 
bestow, I would give it all to enjoy with you one hour 
of social intercourse. 



A Soldier's Diary. 



CHAPTER VI. 

Camp Pittman, Va., February 2d, 1863. 
Our camp has been christened at last. We are 
building a huge oven, large enough to supply our 
brigade with soft bread. Furloughs are being granted 
to a limited number of officers and men. This will 
entitle our company to eight privates. In our com- 
pany the lot fell between Wait Wright, of Eaton 
Rapids, and myself. Our cases were so similar the 
Colonel would not decide between us. He said we 
must talk it over and agree which should go first, and 
that, as soon as one returned, the other should go. I 
heard Mr. Wright's story and volunteered to remain 
until his return, which will be fifteen days from the 
date of his furlough. The past week has been very 
cold. It has snowed all day, and now — about four 
o'clock — is turning to rain, and bids fair to be a rainy 
night. 

February 8th, 1863. 
We are under marching orders again — ready to 
move at a minute's notice. The Ninth Army Corps 
is detached from the Army of the Potomac and is 
ordered to report to General Dix, at Fortress Monroe. 
The supposition is we go on an expedition somewhere 
— rumor says Vicksburg. The first detachment has 



Story of a Volunteer. 29 

gone, and we are awaiting the return of the transports. 
The men are well pleased with the idea of going far- 
ther south. For myself, I say any place but this. 
When we came here the country was a wilderness, 
covered with a heavy growth of scrub pine. Now it 
is a desert with scarcely a tree, and not a fence rail 
for miles in any direction. 

It seems that Richmond has lost its strategic import- 
ance, and the ''decisive blow" which was to have 
fallen there has been transferred to five other points, 
viz: Vicksburg, Port Hudson, Rosa's and Foster's 
expeditions, and Charleston. "If these prove success- 
ful," say the Washington papers, "the rebellion will 
end in thirty days." God grant them all success 
When I survey the past history of the war I can see 
but little in the immediate future to encourage hope. 
The conviction is forced upon me that if the North 
subdue the South, the war has but just begun. It can 
and will be done, but time and persevering effort only 
will accomplish it. The people are too impa- 
tient. They demand important victories now, 
while some fortified place — Vicksburg, for 
instance — can only be taken by siege, and siege means 
weeks and months of waiting. 

Government, urged on by the people, acts as if 
the salvation of the country depends on all this being 
accomplished before the fourth of March. But I see 
nothing but failure in haste. 



30 A Soldier's Diary. 



CHAPTER VII. 

February 15 th, 1863. 
We are now on the "heaving sea and the bounding 
wave." We were aroused yesterday morning al four 
o'clock, ordered to prepare breakfast and be ready 
to march at a minute's notice. At five-thirty the 
bugle sounded "fall in." V/e slung our accoutre- 
ments, the first time since the battle of Fredericksburg, 
and in fifteen minutes were en route to the depot, 
distance about two miles. After some delay we took 
cars for Aquia Creek, where we arrived at 1 o'clock 
a. m., and were immediately transferred to transports, 
bound for Fortress Monroe. The Seventy-ninth 
New York and Seventeenth Michigan were crowded 
on the North America, an old Fludson River propel- 
ler. There was hardly standing room, much less 
room to walk about. The day is fine, and the bay, 
unruffled by a breeze, presents a lively and pictur- 
esque appearance. Steamers are continually arriving 
and departing, sailboats of all sorts and sizes spread 
their white wings and glide leisurely through the still 
waters, while the active little tugs go whisking and 
snorting here and there, assisting larger and more 
unwieldly vessels. We left Aquia Creek at 10:30 
o'clock a. m., expecting to reach the Fortress by nine 
o'clock next morning. I love the sea in all its Forms 
and phases, and it was with a thrill of joy I took my 



Story of a Volunteer. 31 

seat on deck, prepared to enjoy whatever of interest 
might present itself. The Potomac, at Aquia Creek, 
is truly a noble stream, if stream it may be called, 
for there is no perceptible current, being, I judge, one 
and one-half miles wide, gradually broadening out 
as it nears the bay, until at its mouth it is nine miles 
wide. There is a striking contrast between the 
Maryland and Virginia shores. The Virginia side, 
nearly the entire distance, presents a rugged, moun- 
tainous aspect, with very few buildings in view, while 
the Maryland shore is level, dotted with farm buildings, 
and, at frequent intervals a village with its church spires 
glittering in the sun. In contemplating these peaceful 
scenes of rural life, the quiet farm houses surrounded 
by groves of trees, the well-tilled fields, outbuildings 
and fences undisturbed by war's desolating hand, the 
genial air of quiet repose that pervades the scene calls 
up emotions that have long lain dormant. For many 
long months, which seems as many years, my eyes 
have become inured to scenes of blood, of desolation 
and of ruin; to cities and villages laid waste and pil- 
laged; private residences destroyed; homes made deso- 
late; in fact, the whole country through which we 
have passed, except part of Maryland, has become 
through war's desolating touch, a desert waste. As 
I gazed on these peaceful scenes and my thirsty soul 
drank in their beauty, how hateful did war appear, 
and I prayed the time might soon come when ''Nations 
shall learn war no more." 

Gradually the wind freshened, increasing in force 
as we neared the bay, until it became so rough the 



32 A Soldier's Diary. 

captain thought it unsafe to venture out, and cast 
anchor about five miles from the mouth of the river to 
await the coming of day. I spread my blanket on 
the floor of one of the little cabins and slept soundly 
until morning. When I awoke in the morning the 
first gray streaks of early dawn were illuminating the 
eastern horizon. 

The gale having subsided, we were soon under 
way, and in about half an hour entered the broad 
Chesapeake. And here a scene most grand and 
imposing met my enraptured gaze. Not a breath of 
air disturbed its unruffled surface. Numerous vessels, 
floating upon its bosom, were reflected as by a mirror, 
A delegation of porpoises met us at the entrance to 
welcome us to their domain; they were twenty-two in 
number, were from six to eight feet in length; in color, 
dark brown. It was truly amusing to witness their 
sportive antics as they seemed to roll themselves along. 
They would throw themselves head foremost from the 
water half their length, turning as on a pivot, perform 
what seemed to be a somersault, and disappear. 

A flock of sea gulls fell into our wake, sagely pick- 
ing up any crumbs of bread that might be thrown 
them. They are a strange bird, a little larger than a 
dove, closely resembling them in color and gracefulness 
of motion. They followed us the whole distance, and 
as I watched their continuous, ceaseless flight, the 
effect on the mind was a sense of weariness at thought 
of the long-continued exertion. 

Soon after we entered the bay ! observed what I 
thought to be a light fog arising in the southeast. We 



Story of a Volunteer. 33 

had not proceeded far, however, before I discovered 
my mistake, for that which seemed to be a fog was a 
shower of rain. I was taken wholly by surprise, for 
I had been accustomed to see some preparation and 
ceremony on similar occasions. But now no gather- 
ing clouds darkened the distant sky, warning me of 
its approach, but the very storm itself seemed to float 
upon the waves and become part of it, and before I 
was aware, enfolded us in its watery embrace. The 
storm soon passed, but the wind continued through the 
day, and, as we neared the old Atlantic and met his 
heavy swells, they produced a feeling of buoyancy that 
was, to me, truly exhilerating. 

Some of the boys were seasick, and a number "cast 
up their accounts" in earnest. We entered the har- 
bor about sundown and cast anchor for the night 
under the frowning guns of Fortress Monroe. 

Vessels of war of every class, monitors included, 
and sailing vessels of all sizes, crowded the harbor. 
It was a magnificent scene, and one on which I had 
always longed to gaze. 

In the morning we learned our destination was 
Newport News, distant about five miles. We arrived 
about eight o'clock, marched two miles to Hampton 
Roads, our camping ground, pitched tents and, at 
noon, were ready for our dinner of coffee and hard- 
tack. 

We have a pleasant camping ground, lying on the 
beach, where we can watch the vessels as they pass 
and can pick up oysters by the bushel when the tide 
is out. 



34 A Soldier's Diary. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

February 28th. 1 863. 
Newport News is a military post, and is of no 
importance in any other sense. There were no vil- 
lages or cities here previous to the war. Now there 
are quite a number of temporary buildings, and bar- 
racks to accommodate 60,000 men. It is an ideal 
camping ground, lying on the north bank of Hampton 
Roads and inclining gently to the northeast. The 
soil is light sand, which absorbs the rain as fast as it 
falls and is never muddy. The Ninth Corps, com- 
posed of forty-eight regiments, is extended in a direct 
line along the beach, covering about two miles in 
length. Stringent rules have been adopted, which, if 
carried out, will greatly enhance the efficiency of the 
men in field operations. We are to have revielle at 
six, when every man must turn out to roll call; break- 
fast call at seven, when we fall in line, march to the 
cook's quarters and receive our allowance of "grub." 
Immediately after breakfast we are marched to the 
creek, v/here every man is required to wash hands, 
face and neck. From eight to half-past, police duty, 
or cleaning up in front of tents; from eight-thirty to 
ten-thirty, company drill; from this time until noon, 
clean guns, brasses and do any little jobs we may have 
on hand; dinner at twelve; from one-thirty to two- 



Story of a Volunteer. 35 

thirty, skirmish drill; from three to four, battalion drill, 
after which is dress parade; at eight-thirty, tattoo, or 
go to bed; at nine, taps, or lights out. Saturday is 
set apart for washing and cleaning up generally. Sun- 
day morning at eight o'clock is inspection of arms, and 
at two o'clock divine service. 

Some of the boys think the regular routine is 
reversed in our case — fighting first and drill afterward. 
Poor fellows; I expect they will see fighting enough 
yet. I have not seen a newspaper since our arrival, 
and know as little of what is going on in the world 
as did Cruso on his desert island. 

March 17th, 1863. 
We have just received orders to be ready to march 
at a minute's notice, with two days' rations in our 
haversacks. The quiet of repose is suddenly dis- 
turbed by war's alarms; the Rebels attacked our forces 
today at Suffolk, about twenty miles from Norfolk. 
The supposition is we go to support our forces at that 
place. Our men are excited to the highest pitch of 
enthusiasm. As I write I hear their shouts and joyful 
exclamations. The Seventeenth has recovered its old- 
time energy, and is eager for the fray. 

Louisville, Ky.. March 27th. 1863. 
We did not go to Suffolk as I anticipated. The 
Third Division went in our stead, while we took 
another direction, and in eight days, by water and 
rail, landed in Louisville. We broke camp at New- 
port News on the 19th inst., marched on board a 



36 A Soldier's Diary. 

fleet of transports, went to Norfolk, where we took in 
coal. While lying there a heavy storm of snow set 
in, which lasted several hours. It was bitterly cold, 
or so it seemed to us, and we suffered severely. To- 
ward night the storm abated and we sailed for Balti- 
more. There we were transferred to cars and came 
by the way of the B. & O. R. R. to Parkersburg, 
W. Va. From Harper's Ferry our route followed 
the course of the Potomac River to Columbia, a lovely 
city far up among the mountains, and near the head 
of that river. The country from Harper's Ferry is 
mountainous, and Columbia is near the dividing line, 
from which point the water flows in opposite direc- 
tions. We were three days and three nights on the 
cars, winding around or darting through the rocky 
barriers that opposed us. For, where they could not 
be evaded, the energy and power of man pierced their 
huge forms and ran his fiery engines beneath their 
towering summits. There are twenty-seven tunnels 
on this road, twenty-five of which we passed through 
in the daytime. Some of the shorter ones are arched 
with brick, others with heavy timbers, while some are 
cut through solid rock and need no support. At 
Parkersburg our three regiments were crowded into 
one vessel, and away we went "down the Ohio." 
We made a short stop at Cincinnati, where we re- 
ceived orders to report at once to Louisville, as an 
attack at that place was apprehended. We halted 
on our way through Louisville and partook of a free 
dinner, prepared for us by the loyal ladies of that city! 
Soft bread, potatoes, boiled ham, cakes and hot coffee 



Story of a Volunteer. 37 

were served us till all were filled (and many a haver- 
sack was also filled), when we gave three cheers and 
a tiger for thfe generous donors. 

We found much excitement, as bands of guerillas 
came within six miles of the city the night before, con- 
scripting men and confiscating horses and other sup- 
plies. 

We stole a march on the Johnnies in coming here, 
they having notified the citizens that they would break- 
fast with them on the morning of our arrival, and when 
they — the citizens — saw their streets filled with sol- 
diers, they thought the promise about to be fulfilled, 
but the Stars and Stripes soon undeceived them. 
Here our brigade was divided, the Eighth Michigan 
and Seventy-ninth New York going to Lebanon, the 
Seventeenth and Twentieth Michigan remaining at this 
place. 

Bardstown, March 31st, 1863. 
Bardstown, where we are now encamped, is an old 
city of about six thousand inhabitants. The Semin- 
ary, which we now occupy as a hospital, was built 
when there were but three houses in Cincinnati. The 
majority of the people, I am told, are secessionists. 
We are encamped on the farm of Senator Wycliff, 
just outside of the city, in a fine grove of beech and 
maple; a beautiful stream runs through our camp, 
while a spring of pure water, enough to supply a 
brigade, bursts from a crevice in the rocks. 



38 A Soldier's Diary. 

Lebanon. Ky.. April 10th. 1863. 
We left Bardstown on April second and marched 
to this place, twenty-eight miles, in two days. How 
long we may remain here I cannot even conjecture. 
Kentucky is like a seething volcano, ready to burst into 
flames at any moment; nothing but the concentration 
of a large force can prevent an uprising. I think the 
presence of so many Michigan boys may have a 
soothing etfect. 



Story of a Volunteer. 39 



CHAPTER IX. 

Lebanon, April 13th, 1863. 

We have lost our favorite commander, Brigadiev 
General Poe. He is promoted to captain in the 
regular service, and delivered his farewell address 
early yesterday morning. He has won the confidence 
and esteem of every man in the brigade, and they 
deeply regret his loss. It was his disobedience of 
orders that saved the First Brigade from slaughter at 
Fredericksburg. His disobedience led to his promo- 
tion. In appearance he is just the man I would 
select from among a thousand for a bandit chief. 

We had a riffle of excitement yesterday in camp. 
Early in the morning the Eighteenth and Twenty- 
second Michigan Regiments were ordered to leave for 
Murfreesboro, Tennessee. The officers of these regi- 
ments, in common with others, have employed negroes 
as servants. Kentucky is violently opposed to the 
President's Emancipation Proclamation. Here was 
a fine opportunity for a Kentucky General to show 
the "Abolitionists" that his state v/as not included in 
that pronunciamento. As the Eighteenth was about 
to board the cars. General Manson, commander of 
this post, ordered them to halt and deliver up all 
negroes in the regiment. Upon inquiry it was found 
that all, except one, were Kentucky negroes, and were 
given up. This did not satisfy; he must have the free 



4:0 A Soldier's Diary. 

man also. The Sixteenth Kentucky Infantry and the 
Twelfth Kentucky Cavalry are doing post duty here. 
These General Manson ordered to form in line of 
battle, and again demanded the surrender of the negro. 
But Michigan was not to be intimidated. Colonel 
Doolittle resolutely refused, formed his men for battle 
with loaded guns and fixed bayonets, and defiantly 
bade the Kentuckian to *'come and take him." Not 
caring to attack with only two to one. General Manson 
sent for the Seventy-ninth New York to come and help 
him, but the gallant Colonel of that regimnet replied; 
"I am not fighting Michigan men." In the meantime 
General Burnside had been telegraphed for orders. 
He replied: "I have nothing to do with it." Colonel 
Doolittle then telegraphed the War Department, and 
is now awaiting orders. The Eighteenth lay with 
their arms beside them all last night, apprehensive of 
an attack. They kept the negro. 

We have a fine camping ground, nearly as good as 
at Newport News. The brigade is encamped in the 
form of a square. There is a spring of water in the 
center. In our front is the City of Lebanon, a place 
nearly as large as Jackson, and old enough in appear- 
ance to have been built in the middle ages. On our 
right and left are splendid farms, on which negro 
slaves are busily engaged plowing and planting. In 
our rear is a piece of timber from which we supply 
ourselves with fuel. We have thickly planted the 
borders of our streets with evergreen trees, which not 
only gives our camp a picturesque appearance, but 
affords a comfortable shade these hot, sultry days. 



Story of a Volunteer. 41 

Our stay here depends entirely on the movements 
of the Rebels. We are here to protect the loyal 
people of Kentucky from guerillas; also to support 
Rosencrans should his rear be threatened by way of 
Cumberland Gap. The Ninth Corps is separated 
into fragments; the Third Division is in Virginia; the 
First and Second are in Kentucky, a brigade in a 
place, but so situated they can be quickly concentrated 
at a given point. Doubtless it is pleasant, this lying in 
camp with nothing to do but drill and play ball, which 
is all the rage just now, but it is not satisfying. It 
may do for regulars, who have so long a time to 
serve, but for volunteers who enlisted to do a given 
amount of work, would like to do that work and go 
home to their families. 

Columbia, Ky., April 30th, 1863. 
At the date of my last entry— the 26th inst. — I 
had seen no indication of a move. We retired that 
night at the usual hour, and just as I was dropping 
off to sleep the order came: "Be ready to march 
tomorrow morning at five o'clock with two days' 
rations." It came like a **clap of thunder from a 
cloudless sky," surprising both officers and men. Our 
officers had formed numerous and pleasant associations 
with Kentucky's fair daughters, and it was with many 
regrets they were compelled to leave their agreeable 
society for the stern duties of the field. But military 
orders are inexorable as fate, and at precisely a quarter 
to five the bugle sounded "fall in," and at five we were 
on the move, bound for Columbia, forty miles away. 



42 A Soldier's Diary. 

The weather is warm and pleasant now, but the 
burning heat of a Southern summer is close upon us. 
A forced march was before us, with no teams to carry 
our luggage. We could not carry all our winter 
clothing, therefore hundreds of good blankets and 
overcoats were thrown away. When we had marched 
three or four miles many of the men found they still 
had too much load, and then the work of lightening 
up began in earnest. For miles the road was strewn 
with blankets, dress coats, blouses, pants, drawers 
and shirts. In fact enough clothing was thrown away 
for Rebels to pick up to supply a whole brigade. No 
wonder so many Rebel regiments are dressed in our 
uniforms. As for myself, I was determined to stay 
by my goods, if I could not carry them. As a matter 
of fact I carried load enough that day to down \ 
mule, and feel none the worse for it. We marched 
to Campbellville, twenty miles, and camped for the 
night. We were expected to cover the entire distance 
in two days, but fully one-half of the brigade were so 
utterly used up it was found to be impossible. We 
only made nine miles the second day, and camped at 
Green River. Here the Eighth Michigan and 
Seventy-ninth New York were ordered to remain; th .• 
Seventeenth was ordered to Columbia and the Twen- 
tieth to the Cumberland, forty miles beyond. 

Lieutenant Colonel Luce is Provost Marshal of this 
district, and we are detailed to do provost duty. 
Colonel Luce's orders are: "Protect government pro- 
perty, keep good order in the town, arrest all disloyal 
citizens and report to headquarters every day." This 



Story of a Volunteer. 43 

part of the state has been much infested by guerillas, 
and we expect lively times. 

Lebanon, Ky., June 1st, 1863. 

I have been home on furlough, and am on my way 
to rejoin my regiment. I reached Louisville last night 
at midnight, and stayed at the Soldiers* Home until 
morning. Charles Groesbeck came with me from 
Detroit, and we found two more of our boys and our 
Chaplain here, waiting to take cars this morning. 

We have a good "drive" on our drum major. He 
reached Louisville on Friday and reported to the post 
commander for a pass to his regiment. The Colonel 
gave him a pass, all right, but to his utter dismay and 
disgust sent him to the barrack, kept him there until 
this morning, then sent him to Lebanon under guard. 
Charlie and I did not report, and came through like 
free men. 

We have a march of sixty miles before us, but a 
wagon train is going out, and we may get our baggage 
carried part of the way. 

We left Lebanon at three o'clock and walked ten 
miles. Next morning at three o'clock we were again 
on the road, intending to make Columbia, but, a heavy 
rain setting in, we took possession of a barn about foui 
miles out and stayed until morning. We had walked 
twenty miles and carried our baggage, and were ready 
to walk eighteen in the afternoon, which is the dis- 
tance from this place to Jamestown, where we expect 
to overtake the regiment. 



4:4 A Soldier's Diary. 



CHAPTER X. 

Lebanon, Ky., June 6th, 1863. 

I did not go to Jamestown, as I intended. I called 
on the Provost Marshal for a pass and learned the 
program had been changed, and the Seventeenth was 
then on its way back to Lebanon. I found the com- 
pany about nine o'clock in the evening, a half mile 
from Columbia, tired and worn by a march of twenty- 
six miles. The boys had stretched themselves on the 
ground, too tired to erect their tents, but when they 
learned of our arrival, they flocked around us to learn 
the latest news from home. And such warm greet- 
ings I seldom ever witnessed. The Colonel said we 
were all right on time; he did not expect us to start 
from home until Monday. 

Here I learned the Ninth Corps had received orders 
to report immediately at Louisville. We started early 
next morning and marched twenty miles. After sup- 
per we threw ourselves upon the ground and forgot 
our pains and aches in "balmy sleep." 

At two o'clock we were aroused by "the shrill 
bugle's cry," and were told we were to be in Lebanon 
at 12 m. — eighteen miles. We turned out, cooked 
and ate our breakfasts, and at four o'clock were on 
the move. The Quartermaster soon overtook us with 
teams that he had "pressed" to carry our knapsacks 



Story of a Volunteer. 46 

for us. With many thanks to Colonel Luce — it was 
he that ordered the wagons to follow us — we started 
on our way with light hearts and lighter feet. But 
eighteen miles in half a day is no easy task, even in 
light marching order, and soon the men, worn out by 
repeated forced marches, began to tire, and many 
were ready to declare they could go no further, when 
we were met by a wagon train, sent from Lebanon to 
bring in those not able to walk. The train was soon 
filled to its utmost capacity. Not being one of the 
unfortunates, I "hoofed it" the entire distance. 

The all-absorbing question with us is, where are 
we going? The Louisville Journal says we are ''goin^ 
to take a new lesson in geography." Of course, then, 
we leave the state. Our officers are about equally 
divided between Washington and Vicksburg. But 
which? If we are to take a new lesson we will not 
go east. Then it must be Vicksburg. Our men say 
it makes but little difference to them, if only we go 
where work is to be done. 

Cairo, III., June 10th, 1863. 
We are now three hundred and sixty-six miles from 
Lebanon, which place we left at 3 p. m. of Sunday, 
and reached Louisville about seven. The ladies had 
prepared supper and we partook of it with many 
thanks to the generous doners. After supper we 
crossed over to Jefferson and took cars for this place 
Here we missed the executive ability of General Poe. 
In all our journeying from Newport News everything 
was arranged with care and precision. Here all was 



46 A Soldier's Diary. 

disorder and confusion. The cars assigned to our 
regiment were partly filled with men and baggage of 
other regiments. Colonel Luce requested the officer 
who seemed to be in charge to remove them. This 
he refused to do, swearing they would have a fight 
first. The Colonel looked in vain for someone to 
bring order out of this chaos. Finally he assumed 
the responsibility himself; told the officer in charge if 
a fight was what he wanted, a fight he should have; 
ordered us to throw them out, and we did it with a 
will. About daylight we took possession and were 
soon under way. 

Our trip through Indiana and Illinois caused an 
ovation. It seemed that the entire population turned 
out to encourage and cheer us on our way. Women 
and children, with bright smiles and waving handker- 
chiefs, thronged the way, and at every station fruit,- 
cakes, bread and butter, newspapers, and, better than 
all, warm, friendly greetings, were literally showered 
upon us. 

At Washington, Indiana, we halted for supper. It 
was midnight, but, as usual, the station was thronged 
with people of both sexes and all ages. Some ladies 
came to our car — food was served in the cars — and 
requested that all who were asleep might be awakened, 
for, as they had been cooking until that time of night, 
and had then walked nearly a mile to see us, they 
would like to see us all. So we aroused the sleepers, 
and had a lively time during our short stay. 

They presented us with bouquets, cards, mottoes, 
etc., and took their leave with many kind wishes for 



Story of a Volunteer. 47 

our success and safe return to our families and friends. 
God bless the loyal people of America, is the soldier's 
prayer. 

We reached Cairo about twelve o'clock last night, 
and immediately went on board of transports. 

June I 1th. 1863. 

We are fairly packed on board a small transport; 
so thickly are we crowded in, it is almost impossible to 
stir; yet all will stir. Every man seems to think his 
very existence depends on movement. As I sit here 
on my knapsack, my back against the railing, inkstand 
between my feet to prevent it being kicked over, a con- 
tinuous stream of restless, uneasy men is pouring 
around, on and over me, which, added to the motion 
of the vessel, makes writing difficult. We left Cairo 
yesterday at five o'clock in the afternoon, and steamed 
down the river a few miles below Cumberland, Ken- 
tucky, and anchored for the night. 

The captain dare not run his vessel in the night, it 
being dark and cloudy, and the Mississippi being the 
most dangerous river in the world to navigate. We 
expect to reach Memphis early in the morning, and 
will then learn our final destination. 

Having crossed the Mississippi at Dubuque, some 
three hundred miles above Cairo, I was somewhat dis- 
appointed, as it did not appear to be any v/ider at 
Cairo than at Dubuque, but, by close observation, 1 
discovered that what it lacked in width was made up 
in velocity and depth. 



48 A Soldier's Diary. 

At Dubuque, too, the water is clear as crystal; from 
St. Louis down it is the color of chocolate. The 
banks of the river are uninhabited and uninhabitable 
most of the way. Every spring and fall they overflow 
from ten to thirty miles, and then this mighty mass of 
water will not be confined. The river channel is 
constantly changing. The light, loose soil of the valley 
cannot withstand the tremendous power of the resist- 
less floods that are hurled from the north upon its 
yielding bosom. This is one cause of disaster. The 
sand bars change so often it is impossible to keep 
track of them. 

June 14th. 

We are still in the harbor at Memphis awaiting 
orders. Eight hundred and fifty wounded men were 
brought to this place yesterday from Vicksburg. 
Grant is still hammering away at that seemingly 
impregnable fortress. The weather is extremely hot, 
which renders our situation, huddled together as we 
are, very uncomfortable. Yesterday we steamed up 
the river about a mile to a fine grove, and all v/ent 
on shore while the crew gave the old boat a thorough 
cleaning. This morning our surgeon ordered us all 
on shore as a "sanitary measure." We marched off 
by companies, each company going where it chose, but 
to different points. We went to Court House Square 
and disbanded. It was like being transferred from a 
gloomy prison to "smiling fields and shady groves." 
The square contains about five acres; is enclosed by 
an iron fence; is thickly set with trees of different vari- 
eties — the brave old oak, with its spreading branches 



Story of a Volunteer. 49 

and delicious shade; the gorgeous magnolia, the tree of 
paradise; the orange and lemon, with an almost end- 
less variety of evergreens. Near the center of the 
square is a bust of General Jackson, cut in marble. 

On one side of the pedestal is incribed those mem- 
orable words of that grand old patriot: "The Fed- 
eral Union; it Must Be Preserved." I noticed the 
word "Federal" was partly obliterated, and inquired 
the cause. A citizen told me it was done by a Rebel 
Colonel at the beginning of the war; that his men, still 
cherishing some regard for the hero of New Orleans, 
took him outside the city and shot him. At four 
o'clock we were marched on board our prison ship. 



60 A Soldier's Diary. 



CHAPTER XL 

June 15th. 1863. 
Orders have come at last. ** Forward to Vicks- 
burg!" is the cry. We are steaming down the grand 
old river once again, ready to face danger in any 
form, either by Rebel bullets or the more dealy miasma 
of the Southern swamps, for ''Liberty and Union." 
The way from Memphis down is not entirely safe 
for transports. Guerillas have a trick of concealing 
themselves along the banks and firing on them as they 
pass. We have a strong guard, with loaded guns, 
ready to return their greeting should they salute us. 
As we do not travel nights, it will take us at least two 
days to make the trip. 

June 16th, 1863. 
At about four o'clock this afternoon we met two 
of our gunboats near Napoleon, Mississippi, who told 
us they had just dislodged a Rebel battery planted on 
the shore, and had burned two small villages. Think- 
ing it not safe to proceed, our fleet was hauled inshore, 
a strong guard was posted and pickets stationed on 
shore to prevent surprise. Most of the men threw 
themselves down, their arms beside them, to rest as 
best they might. Some few had gone ashore and 
were enjoying a social chat around their blazing camp 



Story of a Volunteer. 51 

fires, while the more restless ones were working off the 
effects of the bad whisky they had imbibed during the 
day with boisterous, hilarious merriment. It was half- 
past ten; feeling wakeful, I had not retired, but sat on 
the railing of the vessel, talking over past events with a 
friend from Jackson. Presently two rifle shots rang 
out, followed by a volley from our pickets. Then was 
there hurrying to and fro. The men sprang instinct- 
ively to arms. Officers rushed from their rooms in 
dishabille, the timid crouched behind anything that 
offered the slightest protection. Confubion reigned. 
But soon our Colone' appeared, cool and collected, 
calm as a summer eve. "Steady, men, stand by your 
arms and wait orders." More pickets were sent out 
and we patiently awaited the attack. But it did not 
come. It was, probably, an attempt by some cow- 
ardly wretches to murder one or two of our pickets and 
escape under cover of darkness. No one was hurt. 
We started soon after daylight, convoyed by two gun- 
boats, prepared for any emergency, and expecting fun. 
One gunboat led the way, the other followed in our 
rear, their bright little guns portruding from their coal- 
black sides. They have a jaunty, saucy air, that seems 
to say: "Just knock this chip off my shoulder, if 
you dare." We were all excitement for a while, 
eagerly scanning every tree or log, thinking to see a 
puff of smoke or a "cracker's" head at every turn. 
Seeing nothing for so long a time, we began to think it 
all a hoax, when suddenly, as we rounded a point, 
running close inshore, the transport in front of us was 
fired on by a concealed foe. Their fire was instantly 



52 A Soldier's Diary. 

returned, and the saucy little gunboats rounded to and 
gave them a broadside of grape, followed by shell, at 
short range. Our boys were quickly in line, watching 
with eager eyes for Rebel heads. Fortunately not a 
man was injured on either vessel. A sad accident 
occurred this afternoon. A young man of Company 
H was standing guard at the head of the stairs. He 
stood on the upper step, leaning on his gun. It slipped 
and the hammer struck the step below. The bullet 
passed through his stomach and lodged near the spine. 

Haines Bluff, Miss., June 18th, 1863. 

Once more on land, and glad are we of the change. 
We arrived at the mouth of the Yazoo at ten o'clock 
yesterday morning, six miles from Vicksburg, and, 
turning upstream, came to anchor at this place, fifteen 
miles from its mouth, at 12 m. 

We had a perilous voyage down the river. It 
would seem, on looking back on the dangers through 
which we were safely carried, that a power higher 
than man's had been exerted in our behalf. To say 
nothing of the guerillas, three times were we in immi- 
nent danger of being "blown up." Once nothing but a 
miracle — men called it luck — saved us from capsizing; 
once we were driven on shore by a hurricane on the 
only spot, so said our pilot, where we could by any 
possibility have escaped being wrecked. 

Part of our division, two days in advance of us, has 
reported at Vicksburg. Two divisions of the Ninth 
Corps are here, the other — the Third — is at Suffolk, 
Virginia. The place we now occupy was lately in 



Story of a Volunteer. 53 

possession of the Rebels. It is strong by nature, and 
has been made still stronger by man, but those terrible 
little gunboats made it too hot for secession, and they 
left in haste, leaving part of their baggage, a few 
horses and cattle, and even poultry, which our boys 
found skulking in the bushes. Of course, they 
arrested the cowardly creatures and brought them 
into camp. 

The inhabitants have all left, driving their stock 
with them, and burning what furniture they could not 
carry. 

The face of the country is rough and broken, quite 
as m.uch so as Maryland and Virginia. Spite of 
Jeff. Davis' prohibition, I find much cotton planted in 
this part of Mississippi, but it will not come to muca 
unless Uncle Sam soon gives it in charge of his colored 
children, who literally throng our camp. I wish I 
could describe the beauty and grandeur of these for- 
ests, but to be appreciated they must be seen. That 
which gives them their greatest charm is the long, 
wavy, gray moss which hangs suspended from every 
limb, from the smallest sapling to the mighty, towering 
oak. Wild plums and blackberries, large and lus' 
cious, abound and are now in season. Figs will soon 
be ripe. Among other things, good and bad, fleas 
and woodticks are in evidence. 

June 21st, 1863. 

The sky is overcast with clouds, a cool breeze 
comes from the west, which makes the temperature 
delightful. I have been out berrying, and have suc- 
ceeded admirably. On my way in I found some 



64 A Soldier*s Diary. 

short pieces of board, of which I have made a com- 
fortable seat, with a desk in front, on which I am now 
writing. I feel quite like an aristocrat. In my ram- 
ble across the field I discovered a flowering vine, the 
most bewitchingly beautiful thing I ever saw. I 
searched in vain for seed sufficiently matured to ger- 
minate. I wish I could describe its matchless beauty, 
but words are feeble. 

We are still lying here waiting for Johnson, of 
course, to come to us, although no one seems to know 
where Johnson is — whether on the Yazoo, the Big 
Black or the little one. I suspect it is not definitely 
known whether his "large army" is a myth or a reality. 
But, doubtless, these hidden, secret, mysterious "stra- 
tegic movements" and original plans will, some time, 
be made apparent, and then I, at least, will make one 
desperate attempt to appreciate and admire the wis- 
dom and energy which could see, plan and execute 
with such unerring certainty and success. But Vicks- 
burg, the center of gravity at present, is really a very 
stubborn fact. I do not understand it, cannot com- 
prehend it, but I believe Grant will investigate it to 
the satisfaction of all loyal people. All the reliable 
information I can get at present is brought on the 
wings of the wind. This is not Grant's official report, 
but the report of his artillery. Last night his cannons' 
sullen roar reverberated from cliff to clitf and shook 
the hills. There are all sorts of rumors which it is 
folly to repeat, for they are replaced by new ones 
every hour. I believe I will record the latest, so here 
goes: 



Story of a Volunteer. 56 

Last night Pemberton conceived the brilliant idea of 
turning loose four or five hundred horses and mules, 
creating a stampede among them, and, when Grant's 
lines open to let them through, as certainly would be 
done, if he suspected nothing, why, out they would 
rush, artillery, infantry and all, before the lines could 
close again, and thus escape. But Grant was wide 
awake, fell back a mile or two to give himself room 
to work, opened his lines for the horses to pass through 
and the Rebels to pass in, then closed on them and 
had them trapped. 



66 A Soldier's Diary. 



CHAPTER XII. 

June 23d, 1863. 
Once more we are on the wing. Yesterday morn- 
ing we were ordered to be ready to march when 
called on. Of course, the men do not expect to stay 
anywhere, but it always comes a little tough to leave 
a pleasant camp just as they get comfortably settled. 
But military orders are inexorable, and, in spite of 
regrets, we "struck tents, slung knapsacks,'* and 
started on our winding way among the hills. This 
part of the country is made up of ranges of high hills 
separated by ravines down which the water has cut 
channels from ten to twenty feet deep. We marched 
about three miles on the road leading to Vicksburg 
and halted on the top of a high hill just large enough 
to hold our regiment. It was plowed last spring and 
planted to cotton. Colonel Luce looked indignant, 
the company officers grumbled, the men swore. Gen- 
eral Welch regretted, but Major General Parks ordered 
the left to rest here, and it rested. But Colonel Luce 
could still do something. Ordering us in line, he 
said: **Men, you need not pitch your tents in line in 
this open field; go where you can make yourselves 
most comfortable, only be on hand when the bugle 
sounds." Three cheers and a tiger for Colonel Luce, 
then a wild break for trees, brush; anything to shelter 
us from the fierce rays of a Southern sun. We are 
now nine miles from Vicksburg by the road, six miles 



Story of a Volunteer. 67 

in a direct line. We can distinctly hear musketry at 
that place, which has been kept up almost incessantly 
the last three days. At intervals the cannonading is 
terrific. Our Orderly Sergeant rode over there yes- 
terday, to see his brother. He says Grant's rifle pits 
are not more than twenty-five rods from the Rebels, 
and woe to the man on either side who exposes him- 
self to the marksmanship of the other. As near as i 
can learn, matters remain about as they were three 
weeks ago. Unless General Grant succeeds in mining 
some of their works, thus affecting an entrance, he will 
be compelled to starve them out. 

We would think, in Michigan, such land as this 
utterly unfit for cultivation. But the highest hills are 
cultivated and planted with corn or cotton. Corn, 
even on the highest hills, I have never seen excelled 
in growth of stalk. One would naturally suppose 
that in this hilly country water of good quality would 
abound. Such is not the fact. Soon as we broke 
ranks I started out in quest of water. I followed a 
ravine about half a mile, then crossed over to another, 
but found none. Blackberries being plentiful, I filled 
my cap and returned to camp. Some of the boys 
had been more successful, and after resting a few min- 
utes I took another direction, for water we must have. 
This time I followed a ridge about half a mile, then 
began to descend — down, down, I went, seemingly into 
the very bowels of the earth, and when I reached the 
bottom found a stagnant pool of warm, muddy water. 
Making a virtue of necessity, I filled my canteen, re- 
turned to camp, made some coffee, ate my berries. 



58 A Soldier's Diary. 

with a very little hardtack, and went to bed to dream 
of "limpid streams and babbling brooks.'* 

This morning my comrade and I arose with the 
early dawn and started out in search of berries, which 
we found in great abundance. 

A strange stillness pervades our hitherto noisy and 
tumultous camp. The men are scattered in every 
direction, lounging listlessly in the shade, not caring 
even to play cards, so oppressive is the heat. I am 
sitting in the shade of a mulberry tree, Collier lying on 
the ground near by; we alternately write or lounge as 
the mood takes us. Most assuredly I never felt the 
heat in Michigan as I feel it here. Yet men can work 
in this climate, and northern men, too. The Eighth 
and Twentieth have been throwing up fortifications for 
several days. 

Haines Bluff, June 24th. 

Yesterday, as I was strolling through the ravines, 
picking berries, I came across a spring of delicious 
water, cold and pure. It is about half a mile from 
camp, in a lovely, romantic spot, almost shut out from 
the light of day by the thick foliage of the magnolia 
and other evergreens which are thickly interwoven with 
flowering vines. I wish I could picture the unrivaled 
beauty of the magnolia. The largest I have seen is 
about fifty feet in height, leaves from four to six inches 
in length by two in breadth in the middle, rounding 
each way to a point, and are of the darkest shade of 
green, fts chief beauty lies in its blossoms, which are 
pure white, about six inches in diameter, contrasting 
strongly with its dark green leaves. It is very frag- 



Story of a Volunteer. 69 

rant, filling the air with sweet perfume. Nature is 
indeed prolific in this Southern clime, bestowing her 
gifts in the greatest variety and profusion, both animate 
and inanimate, things pleasant to look upon and grate- 
ful to the senses, and those that are repulsive and dis- 
gusting in the extreme. Insects and reptiles, varying 
in size from diminutive "chiggers," too small to be seen 
by the unaided eye, but which burrows in the flesh 
and breeds there, to the huge alligator that can swallow; 
a man at a single gulp. I have not seen an alligator 
yet, but some of our men have seen him to their sorrow. 
Soon after our arrival some of the men went in to 
bathe and wash off some of the dust of travel. They 
had been in the water but a few minutes when one 
of their number uttered a shriek of terror and disap- 
peared. Two of his comrades who happened to be 
near by seized him and dragged him to shore. The 
right arm was frightfully mangled, the flesh literally 
torn from the bone by an alligator. Since that inci- 
dent bathing in the Yazoo is not indulged in. 

Moccasin snakes and other poisonous reptiles 
abound, and a species of beautifully-tinted, bright- 
eyed, active little lizards inhabit every tree and bush, 
creep into and under our blankets and scamper over 
us as we try to sleep. The nimble little fellows are 
harmless, but quite annoying. 

There has been uninterrupted firing of small arms 
and artillery at Vicksburg today. We are busily 
engaged in throwing up breastworks two hundred rods 
from here. Our regiment was detailed for that pur- 
pose today. 



60 A Soldier's Diary. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

Haines Bluff, Miss., June 26th. 
We get no news from the outside world. Not 
even the New York Herald or Detroit Free Press, 
those blatant organs of secession, can penetrate these 
lines. But the air is filled with rumors — rumors that 
are true today and false tomorrow. It is said the 
Rebels have a battery now where they fired on us 
when we came down; that they have captured all our 
mail and destroyed the mail boat. Today they sank 
the boat in shallow water and one of our gunboats 
secured the mail. All we are sure of is we are here, 
felling trees and throwing up breastworks; that General 
Grant is still knocking for admittance at the "Gates of 
Jericho." Were I to credit what I hear, and it comes 
from "reliable sources," I would believe he has already 
made the seventh circuit of that doomed city with his 
terrible ram's horn in full blast, and now, covered 
with sweat and dust, has paused on a "commanding 
eminence" to witness the final consummation of his 
plans. But the continuous thundering of his artillery 
and the occasional rattle of musketry convince me that, 
in these latter days, the tumbling down of formidable 
walls is not so easily accomplished as in the olden 
times when the Almighty seemed to take more interest 
in the affairs of men. But, although the long-wished- 



Story of a Volunteer. 61 

for event is delayed until hope is well-nigh dead, still, 
seeing and knowing what I do, I have entire confidence 
in Grant's final success. 

But hark! What ciy is this? Oh, joyful sound. 
The mail! the mail has come! Thank God, there is 
one for me! 

June 27th, 1863. 

A letter from home — the first since April 25th, and 
written by my beloved wife. On receiving it I sought 
my tent with eager haste and perused its welcome page^ 
over and over again. Well may my darling say, 
"God has been better to me than my fears," for we 
have been spared to each other, and our children to 
us both. 

I do not believe my darling's dream was all a 
dream. On that same day, the 9th of June, I was on 
my way from Louisville to Cairo. We went directly 
north to Seymour, Indiana. Almost home, it seemed 
to me, where we changed cars for the southwest. I 
was cast down, discouraged, more so than at any other 
period of my life. My thoughts and affections were 
drawn out to my sorrowing wife with an intensity thai 
was agonizing. I had given up hope of her ever 
becoming reconciled to our fate, and believed she 
would mourn her life away for him who would 
gladly have given his own to save his wife. I felt I 
could do no more. Under the circumstances was 1 
not permitted to visit her, that my spiritual presence 
might cheer, comfort and encourage her by the assur- 
ance that she was not forsaken ; that, though far away, 
her husband was still present, even to her outward 



62 A Soldier's Diary. 

senses. I believe my darling has often visited me, 
and I love to cherish the fond thought. Every nerve 
and fiber of my soul has thrilled with joy unspeakable 
at the familiar touch of her dear hand upon my brow. 

July 3d, 1863. 

We are encamped six miles from Haines Bluff, on 
a ridge of ground, in a perfect wilderness. I have 
hardly seen level ground enough, in this State, for a 
regiment to camp on. I find blackberries in abun- 
dance, and, therefore, am content. They have 
formed a large share of my diet, and have been 
both food and medicine. Scurvy and diarrhea have 
entirely disappeared. That which we most need and 
cannot get is pure water. The streams have all run 
dry, and unless it rains soon, every spring within 
reach of us will fail. Water is now so scarce every 
regiment except the Seventeenth has placed a guard 
over its own spring, and will not allow others to use it. 
If we stay here long, we will be compelled to dig 
wells. 

We are now twelve miles from Vicksburg and 
eight miles from the Big Black. I can still hear the 
thunder of artillery, morning and eve, at the former 
place. If Grant celebrates the Fourth inside of 
Vicksburg, as report says he intends to do, he must 
do something decisive soon. He may be doing that 
very thing this minute. When I began writing, his 
cannon kept up a continual roar. It has almost 
ceased. Perhaps he is now storming their works. 



Story of a Volunteer. 63 

Our men are still throwing up fortifications. The 
whole country for fifteen miles around Vicksburg is 
little less than a fortification. The inhabitants around 
here did not run away at our approach. Most of 
them are intensely loyal just now. The reports of 
want and destitution with which the papers are filled, 
and which I doubted, are true. Many families draw 
all their supplies from our Quartermaster. Soon all 
must do so. 

July 4th, 1863. 

**Be ready to march at a minute's notice," is the 
order. At the same time we learn that Vicksburg 
has surrendered; that Johnson is in a trap, and that 
we are to help "bag the game." So away we go, in 
light marching order. We marched eight miles and 
camped for the night. 

July 5th, 1863. 

We have moved about one and one-half miles 
today. No doubt our northern friends think they 
have seen dusty roads, but if they could have seen 
us yesterday or today, they would have thought the 
dustiest time they ever saw was clean and airy in 
comparison. The road, and two or three rods 
on either side, was beaten into the finest powder, and 
the feet of men and horses caused it to rise in sooty 
clouds, which enveloped us in their stifling, smoth- 
ering folds. There was no breeze to carry it away 
— no possibility of avoiding it. When we halted 
at night every man of us was a "free soiler," and 
carried enough dirt on his person to make a "garden 
spot." Thanks to a kind providence, water is plenty 



64 A Soldier's Diary. 

at this place, and we soon washed and forgot our 
miseries. 

One of the boys just killed a huge rattlesnake a 
few feet from where I am writing. 

Near Jackson. Miss., July 11th. 1863. 

On the 6th of July, at about 3 o'clock p. m., we 
fell into line and started for the Big Black River, dis- 
tant about two miles. The Rebels had shown them- 
selves in considerable force on the opposite bank, and 
had engaged our skirmishers from rifle pits. whicK 
were dug close to the river bank, and were concealed 
by a thick growth of small cane, killing and wound- 
ing several of our men. Their force was unknown 
to us, the river fifteen to twenty feet deep, the banks 
level, and, on the other side, covered with a heavy 
growth of timber. 

Bridges must be built, and the hazardous task was 
assigned to the First Brigade. In crossing a level 
stretch of cleared land, by looking back, I could see 
the whole brigade in motion, winding along like a 
huge serpent and extending nearly a mile in length, 
and a feeling of pride and exultation surged over me 
as I saw, once more, the grand old Ninth Corps 
advancing on our country's foe, and led, too, by the 
glorious Seventeenth. 

On arriving at the river we formed in line behind 
a bank, thickly covered with brush, and awaited the 
darkness of night before beginning our task. 

At dusk each regiment was formed into reliefs, 
for fatigue duty, and the work of building began. 



Story of a Volunteer. 65 

Contrary to our expectations, no opposition was 
offered. A raft was built on which skirmishers were 
carried over, but they found no enemy. As soon as 
they discovered our determination to cross, they fell 
back toward Jackson. We built our bridge, and 
crossed the next day, July 7th, at 12 m. A deserter 
told us they had heard of the surrender of Vicksburg, 
and had left in haste. Quite a number of mules 
and beef cattle were left behind, and were taken in 
charge by our Quartermaster. Here our advance 
assumed somewhat the nature of a forced march. 
We halted but a few minutes at a time, and con- 
tinued, until nearly midnight, to feel our way. Our 
first day's march, after crossing the river, was over a 
rough, broken country, covered by a thick growth 
of timber, which afforded a grateful shade, alternated 
by open stretches of cleared land, where the sun beat 
down upon us in all its fierceness. Many of our 
men fell out; several were sunstruck, two of whom 
died in a few minutes. On our previous short 
marches we had been greatly inconvenienced by the 
scarcity of water, but we had now to travel thirty 
miles through a country almost destitute of springs 
or streams, the inhabitants depending on cisterns and 
artificial ponds for themselves and stock. I have not 
seen a well of water in Mississippi. The negroes tell 
us we will not find a drop of water for thirteen miles 
for man or beast. The long-continued drought has 
nearly exhausted cisterns and dried up most of the 
artificial ponds. We could only push ahead and 
trust in providence. But we were not left to perish. 



66 A Soldier's Diary. 

for that very night we marched into camp in the midsL 
of one of the heaviest thunder show^ers I ever wit- 
nessed. It seems to me as much a miracle as the 
"Smiting of the rock for the Children of Israel." 
And I thanked God and took courage. That, and 
the frequent showers that followed, saved thousands 
of men and horses from perishing of thirst. As often 
happens when large bodies of troops are in motion, 
our supply train did not come up, and the second 
morning from the river found us with empty haver- 
sacks. Unlike Virginia, this part of Mississippi 
abounds in, cattle and hogs, and the ravines around 
our camp were soon converted into slaughter houses, 
from which our men supplied themselves with meat. 
We stayed here until 2 o'clock p. m. for the train to 
came up; half rations were issued, and we resumed 
our march, and kept it up until midnight. This was 
a hard day for men and horses, owing to the scarcity 
of water and the excessive heat. A number of men 
died of sunstroke, anl twenty-five horses were found 
dead. Not a man of the Seventeenth has died, 
although several were compelled to fall out. As for 
myself, I marched near the head of the regiment all 
day, and was ready for a like excursion the next 
morning. We camped that night within five miles of 
Jackson, and our advance had already skirmished 
with their pickets, who had slowly fallen back. We 
were aroused at 4 in the morning, drew four days' 
rations, and a little after 5 were on the move, 
cautiously feeling our way to avoid surprise. We 
marched in this way about two miles, when the 



Story of a Volunteer. 67 

enemy was discovered about three-fourths of a mile 
ahead, in a cornfield, drawn up in line of battle. 
Smith's division formed quickly to oppose them, artil- 
lery was ordered to the front, and every preparation 
was made for an engagement, but, before our artillery 
could be brought to bear, they fell back to the left of 
the city and took up a position in a piece of timber. 

About a mile from that place we halted and pre- 
pared again for battle. Rebel cavalry could be seen 
hovering near our left, while a strong force of infantry 
could plainly be seen in the woods in front of us. 
Our brigade — the First — was ordered to the front, 
and formed in line of battle, supported by the Third 
Brigade. The Forty-fifth Pennsylvania and Second 
Michigan deployed as skirmishers about forty rods in 
advance of us. They moved cautiously about one 
hundred yards, when the enemy fired on them, 
wounding four. This was a signal for an advance. 
We had formed in a cornfield, and advanced at 2:30 
p. m. The sky was cloudless; not a breath of air 
was stirring. Our course, after emerging from the 
cornfield, lay across a level pasture. We advanced 
steadily, but the Rebels fell back as we approached, 
firing occasionally, until dark, when we halted in the 
wood until morning, sleeping on our arms. Soon 
after daylight we were up and after them, keeping, 
all this time, our line of battle. As we emerged into 
an open field we were saluted by a volley that passed 
harmlessly over our heads. This was their parting 
salute, for they immediately retired behind their forti- 



68 A Soldier's Diary. 

fications, and we took up the position assigned us on 
the left of the city. 

I have written these sketches as I could snatch a 
moment here and there, a few lines at a time. 

July 18th. 

Our colors float from the walls of Jackson, but 
Johnson is not bagged; there was a hole through 
which he escaped. 

Twice the Rebels charged us, and were sent back 
quicker than they came. Their loss in these two 
charges was three hundred men, in killed. 



Story of a Volunteer. 69 



CHAPTER XIV. 

July 20th, 1863. 

Vicksburg is ours; Johnson defeated and his forces 
scattered; our work in Mississippi is performed, and 
we have taken up the line of march for some other 
distant field. 

We left Jackson at 3 a. m. today for Haines Bluff, 
where we take transports for some point north or east. 
I think I will be glad to put in the balance of my 
work a little farther north, although I would not hesi- 
tate to go anywhere, so I might contribute my mite 
toward putting down this rebellion. But, other 
things being equal, I would choose to be where we 
could get pure water, and, what I prize more than all 
else, hear from my loved family with some degree of 
regularity. It has been a sore trial, and hard to 
bear, to be compelled to wait for days and weeks 
for tidings from a sick and suffering wife. 

We marched twelve miles this forenoon, and have 
halted for dinner. Fifteen miles must be made this 
afternoon to obtain water. It is a tough march, but 
necessity compels. It would seem that, in an emer- 
gency like this, when our lives depend upon our 
"staying power," some unseen hand sustains us. As 
for myself, I have never borne hard marches so well 
as in Mississippi. 



70 A Soldier's Diary. 

I see by the papers there is much talk of the Rebels 
carrying the war into the North. Well, let them go. 
"Whom the gods would destroy they first make 
mad.** I am not sure but it is the only thing that 
can unite the North; certainly it will hasten the down- 
fall of the Confederacy. 

Haines Bluff, Miss., July 23d, 1863. 

We arrived at our old camp yesterday — twenty 
days from the time we left it — the toughest twenty 
days of our experience. A dirtier, more ragged and 
drilled-out lot of men I hope never to see. The first 
thing I did, after eating a little hardtack and drinking 
a cup of coffee, was to bolt for the spring, build a 
fire, boil my shirt, pants and socks, scrub myself from 
head to heels, put on my clothing wet — though not 
much wetter than before — and return to camp a 
cleaner, therefore a better man. There have been 
times when we could not get water to wash our 
hands and face, to say nothing of our clothing, for a 
week or more. 

It was dark when I returned to camp, but fires 
were burning brightly in every direction, and around 
them were gathered groups of men silently reading 
letters. I hastened to the Orderly and asked him 
"Have you anything for me?*' "Yes, I have four 
letters for you.'* My heart gave one great bound of 
gladness, and, grasping them tightly, I hastened to the 
nearest fire to learn what news from home. Rumors 
of a great battle, fought and won by Meade, had 
been in circulation several days, but no one knew 



Story of a Volunteer. 71 

whether true or false. These letters from my wife 
confirmed them. The threatened invasion took place, 
was crushed, and Lee was suffered to recross the 
Potomac at his leisure, as he was allowed to do after 
Antietam. 

Haines Bluff. July 29th, 1 863. 

We did not leave on the 23d, as was rumored, but 
are still in pur old camp, enjoying a short season of 
repose preparatory to our voyage up the river. It is 
a repose much needed by our men. What prompted 
our commander to hurry us through as he did — sixty 
miles in three days — I cannot conceive. Strict orders 
were issued against straggling. No man would be 
allowed to leave the ranks without a written pass 
from the Surgeon, and all stragglers were to be picked 
up by the Provost Guard and taken to headquarters 
for trial by court martial. The General "reckoned 
without his host." Some men, so great was their 
respect for discipline, marched in the ranks until they 
fell, in a dying condition. But most of them cursed 
the General and his orders and sat down to rest and 
cool off whenever their judgment told them they were 
getting too hot, and, when rested, came on again. 

After the first day, no attention was paid to orders. 
Men fell out in such numbers the Provost could not 
arrest them, and came straggling into camp until 
nearly morning. 

The next morning after our arrival, in the Seven- 
teenth alone, one hundred twenty men were reported 
unfit for duty, and forty-five are now sick in hospital. 
Doubtless much of this sickness is the effect of the poi- 



72 A Soldier's Diary. 

sonous liquid we were compelled to use for cooking 
and drinking purposes. How grateful to us, then, 
is the delicious, sparkling water that flows in abun- 
dance from that romantic spring I described on our 
first arrival. Before I leave this subject, let me record 
our experience the week we were encamped before 
Jackson. The first day we used cistern water, but 
that soon failed. After that, all that was left for 
coffee and for cooking purposes was water from an 
artificial pond, scooped out in a barnyard, and all 
the battery and camp horses — five or six hundred of 
them in number — were watered there every day. 
They were ridden right into the pond! Rather than 
drink it, I have been three miles to the rear, after 
having been on duty all day, for a canteen of cistern 
water. 

July 30. 1863. 
Another letter from my poor, suffering wife. As 1 
think of her sorrows, cares and perplexities, I cannot 
force back the thought that will unbidden rise, can 
so much be required of us; such great sacrifices, not 
only of property, but our cherished plans, embracing 
the future welfare of our children, in fact, all of 
earthly good, while others are exempt — have no part or 
lot in it — who would not even know that war existed 
were they not led to inquire the cause of such unex- 
ampled prosperity — and, when rebellion at home 
stares them in the face, and the "fire in the rear" so 
often threatened really breaks forth, loudly call for 
soldiers to come and protect their precious lives and 
property ? 



Story of a Volunteer. 73 

Where are those Union Leagues, who were going 
to "unite the loyal people of the North and subdue 
Copperheads?" Where are those patriots who could 
not leave their business to go to the war, but would 
**take care of the Rebels at home?" But a little cool 
reflection banishes such thoughts. I have to act only 
for myself, and answer only to my own conscience. 

July 31st, 1863. 
Our transports have arrived, and we expect to 
leave this afternoon for Cairo. Some of our boy3 
are very sick, and urge me to go with them on the 
hospital boat. They have obtained the consent of 
Colonel Luce, and I may be detailed for that pur- 
pose. Rumor says the sick are to be sent to St. 
Louis. If so, I will go there with them and join the 
regiment as soon as possible, wherever it may be. I 
do not like to leave it, for I am lonely and discon- 
tented when out of sight of the Seventeenth. Colonel 
Luce says we are going to Indiana, but there are so 
many contingencies, we may be needed elsewhere. 



74 A Soldier's Diary. 



CHAPTER XV. 

August 7th, 1863. 

It was with a bounding heart, brimful of gratitude 
to God, that I stepped on board the Dakota and bade 
farewell to Haines Bluff on the second day of August. 
We have three hundred sick and wounded on this 
boat and are short of help. Quite a number who 
started as nurses are sick. Four men died the first 
night. We ran the boat ashore, dug a grave large 
enough for all, and laid them in it, side by side. Our 
Chaplain read the burial service, and we hastened on 
board to repeat the ceremony, the next morning, for 
some one else. It seems hard — even cruel — but it 
is the most solemn burial service I ever witnessed. 
Nine have died since we started, and one threw 
himself overboard in the frenzy of delirium and was 
drowned. We kill a beef every evening. Two 
nights in succession the best part of a hindquarter has 
been stolen. The boat hands were questioned, and 
a huge Irishman acknowledged the theft. He was 
court martialed and sentenced to be "banked." The 
boat was stopped opposite a wilderness. No human 
habitation was in sight. He was forced to pack 
his bundle, take to the woods and run his chance with 
hunger and the Rebels. 

As we were running leisurely along, about 3 



Story of a Volunteer. 75 

o'clock in the afternoon of yesterday, my curiosity 
was aroused by our boat running suddenly against 
the shore and sticking there. All hands were called, 
and, with the aid of soldiers, she was soon shoved 
otf, and on we went again. A Sergeant asked the 
Mate why we landed there. His reply was, "Some- 
thing wrong in the wheel house." One of our boys 
asked a darkey the same question. "Well, boss, I 
*specs dey see a rabbit ober dere, an' t'ink dey kotch 
'im." Soon after, as two comrades and myself were 
sitting in the bow enjoying the cool breeze, my atten- 
tion was attracted by the glassy stillness of the water 
in front of us. Pointing to the right, I said, "Yon- 
der is the safe place to sail." The words had 
scarcely left my mouth when we felt a sudden shock, 
the bow of the boat was lifted about two feet, a full 
head of steam was turned on, which carried us over 
the obstruction. We had "struck a snag." Soon 
after, we anchored for the night, as the pilot was "too 
sick" to run the boat. 

The sick from our regiment are doing well. I 
never saw wounded men do so nicely. Of five who 
came as nurses, four are on the sick list. As for 
myself, I have not been so well in years. 

Louisville, Ky.. August 1 1th, 1863. 
Again in Louisville — eleven hundred miles nearer 
home than one week ago — and yet how far. Still, 
it is joy to feel I am comparatively near. We 
reached Cairo on the evening of the seventh, took on 
fresh supplies, and left next day at noon for Cincin- 



76 A Soldier's Diary. 

nati, which place we expect to reach some time to- 
morrow. We are now — 3 p. m. — taking on coal, 
and will start in a few minutes. 

The Ohio is very low — in places not more than 
three feet deep. We have brought up against sand 
bars and been forced to back off perhaps fifty times 
since leaving Cairo. From this place to Cincinnati, 
I am told, there are no obstructions. The most dif- 
ficult part of our way was from New Albany to Louis- 
ville. We were six hours in making three miles last 
night. It was nothing but "Back *er and try again" 
for about a mile, and then we had a canal with three 
locks to pass through. 

We have had no deaths since the seventh, and our 
sick and wounded boys are doing nicely. These 
fresh northern breezes are more exhilerating than wine, 
and the hope that they may be sent to their homes 
to recruit their health is more healing than medicine. 

Cincinnati, Ohio, August 12th, 1863. 

We arrived here at 9:30 this morning. My day's 
work is, at last, completed, at 9 p. m. This has been 
a busy day. In fact, I have not been idle or had 
much rest, by day or night, since July fourth, and 
yet I am fresh and vigorous as in days of old. The 
sick and wounded all removed — the worst cases to 
the General Hospital in this city, the convalescents to 
Camp Denison, eighteen miles out, while a few return 
to their regiments. 

The Seventeenth passed through here today, and is 
now in camp near Covington, on the opposite bank of 



Story of a Volunteer. 77 

the river. I expect to join them in the morning, and 
look for a handful of letters. 

People call the weather here very hot, but it is not 
Mississippi heat, and I enjoy it. The mornings and 
evenings are delightfully cool, while there it is con- 
stant, relentless heat both day and night. Here a 
coat is comfortable in the morning — there one needs 
no cover day or night. 

Camp near Hickman*s Bridge, Ky., 
August 16th, 1863. 

I did not join the regiment as soon as I expected, 
owing to the negligence of the Medical Director, 
whose duty it was to furnish me transportation. As I 
had no money, I was forced to await his pleasure. 
The regiment took cars for this place the day they 
crossed over, so I was left in Cincinnati until Friday 
evening to live as best I might. I crossed the river 
on Friday, and next morning took cars for Nicholas- 
ville, fourteen miles beyond Lexington, and one hun- 
dred fifteen miles from Cincinnati. I was just in time 
to get two months' pay. I should have drawn for 
two months more, but there was a mistake in the pay 
rolls, which cannot be corrected until next muster. 
The Paymaster says he is going to pay us again next 
month, and the next time muster us out of the service. 

We have a very pleasant camp, in a shady grove, 
and an abundance of pure, sparkling water, which I 
appreciate now as I never did before. 



78 A Soldier's Diary. 

Nicholasville, Ky.. August 27th, 1863. 

We are again enjoying the quiet of camp life. 
Our miniature tents are pitched in regular order, 
streets are policed and brigade guards posted to keep 
our unruly boys within bounds. 

Colonel Luce, five line officers and twenty privates 
have gone home on furlough — others to Cincinnati on 
leave of absence. Everything indicates a period of 
rest. Our boys are trying to make up for their 
privations "down below." Nearly every tent presents 
the appearance of a market for the sale of fruit or 
vegetables. 

Potatoes, peaches, apples, cabbages, onions, water- 
melons and green corn are piled in heaps or lie around 
loose throughout the camp. Then we have artists, 
too. Two Daguerian cars are running full blast, 
where the boys get indifferent pictures at one dollar 
each. I saw a great curiosity today — a relic of by- 
gone ages. About a mile from camp there is a shop 
where the old-fashioned spinning wheel is manufac- 
tured on quite an extensive scale, and they find a 
ready sale. This is a fair index to the progress of 
the people. Their manners, forms of speech and cus- 
toms all point to past ages. They are very loyal and 
very friendly when sober, but when filled with corn 
whiskey, hypocrisy and self-interest take a back seat, 
and they speak their real sentiments with a frankness 
and fluency that is not at all flattering to us "Yanks." 
From what I have seen, I conclude all Kentuckians 
drink whiskey. There are distilleries in every little 
town, where the "genuine article" is turned out. I 



Story of a Volunteer. 79 

called at a farm house one day for a drink of water. 
The good woman was catechising her son — a lad of 
ten or twelve years- — about ten cents she had given 
him with which to buy some little notion at the store. 
She gave me a drink of water, then, turning to the 
young hopeful, angrily inquired, "But where*s that 
ten cents I gave you?" **I guv five cents to Bill." 
"Where's the other five?" "Bought my dram with 
it." The explanation appeared satisfactory. 



80 A Soldier's Diary. 



CHAPTER XVI. 

Camp Parks, Ky.. August 20th, 1863. 
I received a letter from a friend in Michigan last 
evening, saying: "If you w^ere in Michigan, or could 
see the situation from the standpoint of the North, 
you would be less hopeful of the speedy termination of 
the war." If by "speedy" is meant a single cam- 
paign, as was promised us one year ago, I do not now 
believe in it, but nothing but the most signal failure 
can change my faith in the ultimate success of our 
cause. We have steadily gained ground from the 
first. The series of reverses that attended our arms 
the first year of the war has forced our government 
to accept the inevitable, seemingly against its will. 1 
do not forget the violent opposition to the Emanci- 
pation and Confiscation Acts, passed by Congress in 
December, 1 86 1 , by Northern men of undoubted 
loyalty, nor the President's timid recommendations in 
his inaugural address to that Congress. I remember 
well that reverses and disasters attended all our efforts 
until the government was compelled, as by an overruling 
Providence, to free the slaves of rebels, which includes 
them all; and that from the moment these measures 
became the fixed policy of the government, reverses 
ceased. It is not the issue of a battle or campaign 
that gives me hope, but the successes that have 



Story of a Volunteer. 81 

attended our arms all through the month of July were 
attended by such peculiar circumstances as to force 
upon me the conviction, "There IS a destiny that 
shapes our ends, rough hew them as we will." 

August 22d, 1863. 
I had comforted myself with the reflection that 
when we returned to Kentucky, where communica- 
tions were uninterrupted by guerillas, and were only 
separated by twenty-four hours of time, I might be 
permitted to correspond with my family without such 
harrowing delays, for I would not have my darling in 
doubt as to my situation or whereabouts for one single 
day, knowing, as I do, the uncertainty of suspense is 
worse than the reality. But 'tis said, "The darkest 
hour is just before the dawn," and, even as I write, 
my mind filled with dark thoughts, a ray of light 
from my Northern home flashes across my vision. 
The whole current of my thought is changed, and 
thankfulness takes the place of my repining. Thank- 
fulness that it is as well with my beloved ones as it is. 
Oh, that I could remove every burden, and make their 
pathway smooth and flowery. I find most of our 
trials are imaginary, but none the less real for being 
so. For instance, my beloved wife's imagination 
pictures me on my weary way back to old Virginia's 
blood-stained fields, subject to every hardship, 
exposed to every danger, and her suffering could be 
no greater if it were so. On the contrary, I am still 
in Kentucky, in a pleasant, shady grove, enjoying a 
season of welcome quiet and repose, soft bread to eat. 



82 A Soldier*s Diary. 

plenty of pure, cold water to drink. What more 
could mortals crave. The newspapers were right, 
as far as they went, about our being ordered to the 
Potomac. We did receive such orders, but General 
Burnside telegraphed the War Department the Ninth 
Corps had marched, during the year, an average of 
twenty miles a day; that it had just returned from an 
exhausting campaign in Mississippi; that the men were 
worn down by fatigue and sickness, and were unfit 
for active service, and asked that they be allowed to 
remain here for a season. His request was granted. 
One year has passed since I left my pleasant home to 
serve my country — a year big with the fate of mil- 
lions yet unborn — a year the most eventful in our his- 
tory; perhaps in the world's history. 

August 24th, 1863. 

We have nearly the same regulations here as at 
Newport News, everything being regulated by bugle 
call. Of course, we drill ; it would be hard to imagine 
a military camp without drill; but it would make a 
horse laugh to see us do it. We fall in line, march to 
the parade ground and halt under the shade of a big 
tree. A Sergeant puts us through the manual of 
arms about five minutes; then stack arms and rest. 
The remainder of the time is spent in lounging on the 
grass until the bugle sounds recall. 

We are under marching orders again; that is, we 
are ordered to be ready, an order altogether superflu- 
ous, for we are always ready. The general impres- 
sion among the officers is, this division is to be broken 



Story of a Volunteer. 83 

up and scattered over the State, a regiment in a place. 
Our old brigade commander. General Poe, is here. 
He is now Chief Engineer in the regular service. He 
is working, ! am told, to get our brigade attached to 
the engineer corps. I hope he will not succeed, as I 
do not fancy that branch of the service. If he does 
succeed, I think I will resign. There has been much 
talk of mounting this brigade and sending us to fight 
guerillas. That would suit me to a fraction. Give 
me a "bounding steed" and a "God speed you" from 
my "lady love," and never did "armed knight" grasp 
spear and shield with greater enthusiasm and devotion 
than I would e^qperience as I hastened to the field of 
bloody strife. But I do not believe Burnside will 
send us from the State at present. He has already 
sent away most of the troops in this vicinity, arid Is 
sending the rest fast as he can mount them, and prob- 
ably we will take their places. 

August 25th, 1863. 
We are still in camp, where each day is like the 
preceding one. The same routine of "duty" is gone 
through with, which, to me, is exceedingly tiresome. 
Give me the variations; something new and startling 
every day. For this reason I prefer active service. 
Those who love fun, and have a natural penchant for 
mischief, have abundant opportunity to indulge. I 
have never heard Billy Dunham com.plain of ennui- 
So long as guards are to be "run," melons to be 
"cooned," peach orchards to be "raided" or a ped- 
dler to be harried, tormented and robbed, Billy is in 



84 A Soldier's Diary. 

his native element. Peddling to soldiers is not the 
most agreeable business in the world, especially if said 
soldiers happen to be, as is often the case, on mischief 
bent. I have seen a crowd of soldiers gather around 
an unsuspecting victim, a few shrewd, witty fellows 
attract his attention, while others pass out to their 
accomplices melons, peaches, tomatoes and vegetables, 
and when the poor fellow discovers the "game" and 
gathers up his "ropes" to drive away, the harness fall 
to the ground in a dozen pieces, the unguided mule 
walks off amazed, the cart performs a somersault and 
the poor peddler picks himself up and gazes on the 
wreck in silent grief. At sight of his helpless misery 
the wretches seemingly relent; with indignant tones 
they swear vengeance on the "man who did it;" help 
him to gather up his "wares" while he secures his 
mule. This is soon done, for his "stock" has grown 
small and "beautifully less." He smothers his rage 
from prudential motives, throws the "toggle" on his 
mule and prepares to depart. Alas, the millennium 
has not yet come. His cart wheels, refusing to per- 
form their accustomed revolutions, start off in opposite 
directions, while the air is rent by the screams and 
derisive yells of his tormenters. When once begun, 
the amusement continues until the stock is exhausted. 
Speaking of Billy, he has become reconciled to his 
fate, and takes to soldiering like a duck to water. 



Story of a Volunteer. 86 



CHAPTER XVII. 

August 25th. 1863. 

Lieutenant Chris. Rath has received a Captain's 
commission, and has been assigned to Company I. 
He has well earned his commission by his bravery and 
efficiency. 

There was a sudden change of weather last night. 
The day had been hot and sultry. Toward night we 
had a light shower, preceded by a hurricane which 
cleared the atmosphere of heat most effectually. It is 
now uncomfortable sitting in my tent with my coat 
on. Uncle Sam seems inclined to make up to us, in 
some measure, for past neglect. We have soft bread 
and other rations more than we can use. Today wc 
were surprised by an issue of tea and sugar, more 
than we can use. We sell our surplus at twenty-five 
cents a pound. The Brigade Surgeon has put a stop 
to drilling except as punishment. No signs of a move 
are in sight. My health is good. It is years since I 
was in possession of such buoyant, vigorous health. 

Camp Dick Robinson, Ky, August 28th, 1 863. 

Again we are on the move en route to Crab Orch- 
ard, thirty miles from our late camp, where a military 
post is to be established. I understand there is to be 
a line of posts from Lexington to Cumberland Gap. 



86 A Soldier*s Diary. 

Report says these posts are to be held by the Ninth 
Corps. I hope not. I much prefer active service, 
with its toil and exposure, to a life of comparative ease 
in camp. While there is work to be done, and God 
gives me strength, I want to be doing. When I can 
be of no more service, then I would go home. 

But I see no preparations for field service. We 
have no artillery or ambulances, which is proof conclu- 
sive. I was disappointed in Camp Dick Robinson. 
1 had read so much of it, I expected to find a military 
station, or fortifications of some kind. Instead, I find 
a beautiful grove of oak and black walnut trees. It is 
noted as being the first camping ground occupied by 
loyal troops in Kentucky. General Nelson, its 
founder, who was shot last fall by General Davis, is 
buried here. 

I have borne the march well today. My feet were 
somewhat tired, and what wonder? Two hundred 
twenty pounds — the weight of myself and load — is 
quite a load to carry ten miles over a macadamized 
road in half a day. 

Crab Orchard, Ky., August 30th, 1863. 
We arrived at 10 a. m., making ten miles from 
Lancaster this morning. Crab Orchard is a lovely 
town of about one thousand inhabitants. We are 
encamped about one mile south of the village, in a 
lovely spot, shut in on all sides by high hills and for- 
ests. To the south, far in the distance, the Cumber- 
land Mountains raise their blue peaks as landmarks to 
guide us on our course when next we move. From 



Story of a Volunteer. 87 

what I see and hear of the surrounding country, the 
boys will have to depend on their rations for food. 

Soldiers are strange beings. No sooner were our 
knapsacks unslung than every man of us went to work 
as though his very life depended on present exertions. 
We staked out streets, gathered stakes and poles with 
which to erect our tents, and now, at 3 p. m., behold! 
a city has arisen, like a mushroom, from the ground. 
Everything is done as though it were to be permanent, 
when no man knows how long we may remain or how 
soon we may move on. 

Part of our route from Camp Parks lay through a 
country made historic by the chivalric deeds of Daniel 
Boone. We passed his old log fort, and the high 
bluff from which he hurled an Indian and dashed him 
in pieces on the rocks below. At the foot of the bluff 
is the cave in which he secreted himself when hard 
pressed by savages. His name is chiseled in the rock 
above the entrance. The place is now being strongly 
fortified. 

We had a lively skirmish in Company G this 
morning. About a week ago the Brigade Surgeon 
ordered quinine and whiskey to be issued to every 
man in the brigade, twice daily. During our march 
the quinine had been omitted, but whiskey was dealt 
out freely. 

Solon Crandall — the boy v/ho picked the peaches 
while under fire at South Mountain — is naturally 
pugnacious, and whiskey makes him more so. This 
morning, while under the influence of his "ration,'* he 
undertook the difficult task of "running" Company G. 



88 A Soldier*s Diary. 

Captain Tyler, hearing the "racket," emerged from 
his tent and inquired the cause. At this Solon, being 
a firm believer in "non-intervention," waxed wroth. 
In reply he told the Captain, "It's none of your busi- 
ness. Understand, I am running this company, and 
if you don't go back to your tent and mind your own 
business, I'll have you arrested and sent to the *bull 
pen.' " At this the Captain "closed" with his 
rival in a rough-and-tumble fight, in which the Cap- 
tain, supported by a Sergeant, gained the day. 

I have the most comfortable quarters now I have 
ever had. Our tent is composed of five pieces of 
canvas, each piece the size of our small tents — two for 
the top, or roof, the eaves three feet from the ground. 
The sides and ends are made to open one at a time or 
all at once, according to the weather. Three of us 
tent together, and we have plenty of room. We have 
bunks made of boards, raised two feet from the 
ground. This, with plenty of straw, makes a volup- 
tuous bed. I received a letter from home last even- 
ing, dated August 1 3th. Oh, these vexatious postal 
delays; they are the bane of my life. I wonder if 
postmasters are human beings, with live hearts inside 
their jackets, beating in sympathetic unison with other 
hearts. I wonder did they ever watch and wait, day 
after day, until hope was well-nigh dead, conscious 
that love had sped its message and was anxiously 
awaiting a return. A letter from home! What 
thrilling emotions of pleasure; what unfathomable 
depths of joy it brings the recipient. It is not alto- 
gether the words, be they many or few, but the remem- 






Story of a Volunteer. 89 

brances they call forth; the recognition of the well- 
known handwriting; old associations and past scenes 
are brought forth from the storehouse of the memor>^ 
and held up to view. The joy of meeting — the 
agony of parting — all are lived over again. 

We are having brigade inspection today, which is 
suggestive of a move, but our artillery has not turned 
up yet, and we will not take the field without it. 

The health of our men has improved wonderfully 
since we reached Kentucky. A more rugged, hearty 
set of men I never saw than the few who are left. 
But, as I look around upon the noble fellows, now 
drawn up in line for inspection, a feeling of sadness 
steals over me. One short year ago nine hundred 
ninety-eight as brave, true men as ever shouldered 
gun marched forth to battle in their country's cause. 
Of all that noble band, only two hundred in line 
today. Where are the absent ones? Some, it is 
true, are home on furlough, but not all. They have 
left a bloody track from South Mountain's gory height 
through Antietam, Fredericksburg and Vicksburg to 
Jackson, Mississippi. 

Oh, how I miss familiar faces! 



90 A Soldier's Diary. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

Crab Orchard, Ky., September 9th. 

Again has the note of preparation sounded in our 
camp, and all hands are busy getting ready for another 
campaign. In all probability we will soon be on our 
winding way among the Cumberland Mountains, en 
route for East Tennessee to assist in driving treason 
from that unhappy State. Orders have not been 
issued, but our artillery and ambulances have come, 
clothing has been issued, knapsacks, haversacks, can- 
teens and tents have been distributed, and, more omin- 
ous still, forty rounds of cartridges have been dealt out 
to every man — in fact, we are ready to take the field 
at a minute's notice, and only await the order. 

"Be ready to march tomorrow morning at 8 
o'clock," is the order that greets me as I write. It 
is one hundred forty miles to Knoxville, our objective 
point, and will take us fourteen days if unopposed. 

London, Ky., September 13th, 1863. 
We broke camp last Thursday morning, the tenth 
of September, bound for Cumberland Gap, ninety 
miles distant. The first day we marched eleven 
miles over a rough, broken country, and encamped for 
the night. The next morning we started at 5 o'clock 
and made eighteen miles; yesterday, nine miles — 



Story of a Volunteer. 91 

thirty-eight miles in three days, with eight days' rations 
and our accoutrements. The second day we 
marched rapidly, making few halts, our business being 
urgent, for Burnside's left was threatened, and we 
were hastening to the rescue. But, thanks to a kind 
Providence, a messenger met us at this place with the 
intelligence that the Rebels had suddenly left East 
Tennessee to join Bragg's army at Lafayette, and the 
Gap was already in possession of our forces. There 
being no cause for haste, our commander decided to 
spend the Sabbath here, and give the poor, tired 
mules a chance to rest. We will probably resume 
our march in the morning and proceed leisurely to th*^ 
Gap — perhaps to Knoxville. We have borne the 
fatigue thus far better than I expected. 

It is a long time since I carried a knapsack, but the 
more I have to do, the more strength I have to do it 
with. 

September 14th. 1863. 
We were aroused this morning at 3 o'clock and 
ordered to be ready to march at 5 o'clock. In a very 
few minutes hundreds of fires were brightly gloving, 
striving by their feeble rays to dispel the gloom of 
night. At the appointed hour we were up and away 
with hearts as light and buoyant as though privations, 
toil and danger were unknown. The morning was 
delightfully cool, and before the god of day had risen 
to scorch us with his burning rays, nearly half our 
day's march was done. The rest of the day was 
made easy by frequent halts, and when, at 2 o'clock 



92 A Soldier's Diary. 

p. m., we filed into line and stacked arms, all were 
agreeably surprised. We had marched twelve miles. 

Today is the anniversary of our first battle — our 
baptism. The mind naturally reverts to that trying 
time, and all its scenes pass rapidly in review, llien, 
for the first time, we met face to face our country's 
foe. The chivalry of the South then m.et the mud- 
sills of Michigan and learned to respect them. Today 
we met them again, but not in battle array. As we 
were starting, this morning, we came upon 2,300 
prisoners taken at Cumberland Gap. They were 
free to talk, and a more ignorant lot of semi-savages I 
never met. We could not convince them that Vicks- 
burg or Port Hudson were in our possession. They 
were very "frank," and indulged freely in epithets 
and pet names. 

September 1 4th, 9 o'clock p. m. 

Our camp is in a beautiful grove, on the banks of 
a "babbling brook." A cool, delicious breeze is 
gently blowing from the west. The sky is cloudless, 
and the bright, scintillating stars shine out in unwonted 
brilliancy, and the pale moon is pouring down upon 
the earth a flood of silvery light. It is an ideal night 
in which to rest after a fatiguing march — an ideal 
night, so seem to think our boys, in which to celebrate 
the anniversary of our first battle. The Sutler came 
up about sundown with the "accessories." The pre- 
liminaries have been gone through with, and the "cel- 
ebration is in full blast." Pandemonium reigns. 
This quiet glen has been transformed, for the time 
being, into the council hall of demons. Men fall 






Story of a Volunteer. 93 

upon each other's necks and weep, and laugh, and 
drivel, and shout '* 'Rah for Seventeenth Michigan." 
It was an impressive ceremony, and one in which all 
allusions to the brave men who fell and sympathy for 
their bereaved families were considerately left out, lest 
they wound the tender sensibilities of the living. 

September 1 5 th. 
We marched fifteen miles to Barboursville and 
encamped on the banks of the Cumberland River, 
Many of the men fell out by the way and came strag- 
gling into camp until after dark. I am too tired to 
write, and will lie me down and rest. 

September 16th. 
I was so completely exhausted yesterday I did not 
expect to be able to march at all today, but, thanks 
to my recuperative powers, I arose this morning '*good 
as new." The distance is nothing; it is the load we 
carry, and the rough, hilly country, winding up, higRer 
and higher, that fatigues. Rough and hilly as it is, 
this country is thickly settled by a people who raise 
barely enough to keep soul and body together. We 
have marched only nine miles today, and will lay over 
until the day after tomorrow. 

Cumberland Gap, September 20th, 1863. 

We are now in East Tennessee, one mile south ot 
the famous Gap in the Cumberland Mountains. 

When we left Crab Orchard we expected a fight 
here, as it was then in possession of the Rebels. I 



94 A Soldier's Diary. 

cannot say I am sorry they gave us possession with- 
out a struggle, for it is an ugly looking place, and 
"hard to take" without opposition. Our route, for the 
last sixty miles, has been over, around and among 
mountains, but this is the "back bone," or main ridge, 
which rises in a direct line high above the isolated 
peaks on either side. The Gap is a slow, gradual 
ascent that rises to about half the altitude of the moun- 
tain on each side; is very crooked, and, at places, 
barely v/ide enough for a wagon to pass. At the 
summit it widens out into a small plain, or basin, con- 
taining about five acres, and shut in by a solid v/all oi 
rock two or three hundred feet in height. Near the 
center of the basin is a large spring of crystal water. 
Here are the fortifications, and a stronger position can 
hardly be imagined. One thousand men can hold it 
against any force that can be sent against it, so long 
as provisions and ammunition holds out. On the 
summit is a marble shaft that marks the corners of 
Virginia and Kentucky and the north line of Ten- 
nessee. By taking two steps I was in three different 
States. We are awaiting orders, and may remain 
over tomorrow. It is yet undecided whether we go 
to Knoxville or to Morristown, thirty miles above the 
former place, on the Richmond & New Orleans Rail- 
road. 



Story of a Volunteer. 95 



CHAPTER XIX. 

Knoxville, Tenn., September 24th. 1863. 

We left the Gap on the twentj'-first and made 
twenty miles, climbing up one side of a mountain two 
or three miles, then down the other side. It was a 
toilsome march, and, when we halted at night, my 
feet seemed pounded to a jelly. We reached Mor- 
ristown the twenty-second, and immediately took cars 
for Knoxville, as we supposed, but the engine coupled 
to the wrong end of the train, and away we dashed 
to Greenville, thirty miles up the valley. We arrived 
there about sundown, stacked arms, unslung knapsacks, 
made a dash for rails with which to build our camp 
fires, but, while we were engaged in making them fly 
again, the bugle sounded "fall in" — the rails were 
abandoned, we were ordered on board the cars, and 
took the back track for Knoxville. We arrived here 
at 4 o'clock this morning and marched directly to the 
Fair Ground, three-fourths of a mile from the city, 
where we are now encamped. 

The boys are somewhat worn by heavy marches > 
and a few days' rest will do them good. 

September 25 th. 
The Fair Ground, on which we are encamped, is 
simply a clearing in the wood, without buildings. 



96 A Soldier's Diary. 

fence or shade. But it is a pleasant place, near a 
spring of good water, and bordering on the Holston 
River. I have just returned from the city, where 1 
have spent most of the day. These are glorious days 
for the people of Knoxville. They tell me the day 
of their deliverance has come at last. The story of 
their sufferings has been but feebly told. Even a 
Brownlow cannot do it justice. Hundreds of citizens 
followed us to their homes, from which they had been 
driven a year or more ago. They are flocking in by 
fifties and by hundreds and are organizing for their 
own defense. We have given them the oportunity, 
and they are eager to embrace it. One lady told me 
it was with difficulty she could repress a shout of joy 
as she saw our blue coats filing down the streets. 
Loyalty here is pure and unalloyed, as proven by the 
sacrifices they have made. 

We are objects of much curiosity. An old gentle- 
man, a preacher, walked six miles to see us. We 
were the first Northern men he ever saw. He said he 
could not express his gratitude to us for their timely 
deliverance. 

Parson Brownlow is expected here soon. I saw 
his son today. He is a noble-looking fellow, about 
21 years of age; is Lieutenant Colonel of a regiment 
that has been raised since Burnside came here. Burn- 
side is the hero of the hour in East Tennessee. 

It is twenty days since I received my last mail. 
During all that time I have not seen a newspaper, 
therefore am totally ignorant of what is taking place 
in other parts of the world. 



Story of a Volunteer. 97 

Knoxville, Tenn., September 27th, 1863. 

We are again under marching orders. It is 
rumored we go to Rosecrans' support tomorrow morn- 
ing. Our boys are quite as enthusiastic as when they 
first left home, and for the same reason. They are 
ready to go anyv/here — do anything — to hasten the 
end. They have borne with wonderful fortitude the 
excessive fatigue of marching through a mountainous 
country. Burnside does not like to spare them — will 
not unless absolutely necessary. He owes something 
to the Ninth Army Corps. Those stars upon his epau- 
lets that shine so brightly, and which he wears so jaun- 
tily, were won for him by the Ninth Army Corps. 
General Burnside is truly a noble man. We respect 
him for his honesty and frankness in acknowledging his 
mistakes as well as for his great administrative ability. 

Our orders to march have just been countermanded. 
General Burnside told Colonel Luce he had received 
a despatch from Rosecrans that we are not needed at 
present. That seems to confirm the rumor of his suc- 
cess. We are having delightful weather, clear and 
cool. 

September 29th. 

It was rumored this morning that we march tomor- 
row at 5 a. m. Little attention was paid to this, 
however, and the men were enjoying themselves as 
usual, gathered in groups around their camp fires, 
which the cool mountain breezes rendered grateful, 
singing songs, spinning yarns or writing letters to loved 
ones at home. About 9 o'clock the official order 
came: "Reveille at 3; march at 5." Rations were 



98 A Soldier's Diary. 

to be drawn, which occupied us until nearly mid- 
night, and left little time for sleep. Again was there 
a change of program, and we were notified that 
reveille would sound at the usual hour. At last wc 
retired to rest, thinking to get two or three hours of 
quiet sleep. Alas, the "glorious uncertainties of 
war," I had hardly closed my eyes in sleep — or so 
it seemed to me — ere our Orderly Sergeant came 
around to every tent — "Fall out, boys; pack up; we 
are off immediately." We have soldiered too long 
to stop and ask questions, be our curiosity ever so 
great, so out we fell, packed our traps in silence, and 
awaited orders. 

We had not long to wait. Colonel Luce soon 
came around to each company and said, in his mild, 
quiet way, "Put on your things, men, and fall in on 
the color line without further orders." 

In less than fifteen minutes from the time we were 
first aroused our brigade was in motion, filing down 
the ravine silently as a band of Indians upon the war- 
path. We marched directly to the ferry, south of the 
city, crossed over, and a little after daylight formed 
in line about two miles from the landing. 

The road from the city followed a ravine running 
south about a mile, then turned abruptly to the right, 
winding around the hills in a southwesterly direction. 
At or in rear of this angle a cannon was placed in 
position to sweep the road for about half a mile. 
This piece was supported by the Twentieth Michigan. 
In advance half a mile, and on the left of the road, 
the Second Michigan was concealed in a cornfield. 



Story of a Volunteer. 99 

while on the right, and a little in advance of them, 
another gun v/as masked and supported by the Sev- 
enteenth, Still further on, and to the left, w^ere two 
more pieces of artillery, supported by the One Hun- 
dredth Pennsylvania. Not a sign of these movements 
could be seen from the road. F^ere, then, is a most 
ingeniously contrived trap. Where is the game? 
And what? 

October 1st, 1863. 

We have pitched our tents in rear of our guns and 
still occupy the same position. Our trap was set 
for a band of guerillas v/ho have been operating a few 
miles south of us. Our cavalry — sent out to drive 
them in — encountered them yesterday, killed several, 
took a few prisoners, and are in pursuit of the remsun- 
der. We busy ourselves by arresting everything and 
everybody that comes our way. Citizens are all taken 
before Acting Brigadier General Leisure, who asks 
them all sorts of questions, gathering, in this way, 
much valuable information — administers the Oath of 
Allegiance, grants protection papers, etc. Deserters 
are constantly coming in, mostly from Bragg's army. 
I saw two North Carolinians last evening. 

They say Beauregard and Longstreet are at Chat- 
tanooga — also that the Rebels burned Charleston and 
evacuated. We are kept very close, no man — not 
even officers' cooks — being allowed to cross over to 
the city. From the best information I can get, 1 
conclude Bragg has sent a force to operate on 
Rosa's rear, threatening this place in their course. 



100 A Soldier's Diary. 

Nine bushwhackers were brought in last night and 
were taken to headquarters. 

These wretches are being hunted from their hiding 
places in the mountains with untiring zeal by the Home 
Guards. 



Story of a Volunteer. 101 



CHAPTER XX. 

Knoxville, Tenn., October 2d, 1863. 

We are shut out from all intercourse with the rest 
of the world. Even Dame Rumor has retired behind 
the scenes, exhausted, doubtless, by the herculean 
efforts she has put forth the last few days. By the last 
and only mail we have had since we came here, we 
received a bundle of Detroit Tribunes, dated Septem- 
ber 1 5th. Since then the silence of isolation has 
enveloped us. There is a tiny sheet published daily 
at Knoxville. It is silent on all except local subjects, 
and nearly so on them. I notice, in yesterday's edi- 
tion, a convention has been held by the people of this 
county to nominate delegates to a state convention, to 
be held at Nashville, for the purpose of nominating a 
state ticket. The delegates pledge themselvs to sup- 
port no candidate who is not truly loyal. Thus, while 
politicians and demagogues are wrangling over "recon- 
struction and territorial admission," the people are 
solving the most difficult problem by the most simple 
process. 

October 3d. 

Our trap is sprung at last. For three long, weary 
days and sleepless nights we patiently awaited the com- 
ing of that "flanking column" which we were to cap- 
ture or annihilate. First they were reported crossing 



102 A Soldier's Diary. 

at Tennessee Ford, twenty miles below, thirty thou- 
sand strong, to sweep the "Northern vandals" from 
this fair valley and open up a way for supplies to 
reach Richmond. Next their advance had reached 
Marysville, fourteen miles from this place. Citizens 
came flocking in all day Thursday, telling sickening 
tales of outrage perpetrated by their "advance" on 
unoffending "Union people." Some reported them 
four hundred strong, others fifteen or twenty thousand. 

Yesterday it was reported ten thousand of our cav- 
alry had gone out to reconnoitre. They visited the 
Ford no "raid" had been there — Rocksville; no cav- 
alry had been there — to Loudon; no guerillas had 
been there. A council of war was held, and they 
decided to return by the way of Marysville. There 
the enemy had been seen. Cautiously they advanced 
to beleaguer the devoted town. A short distance from 
the town a halt was called and scouts sent out to recon- 
noitre. They found the city "occupied" by a force 
of — eight bushwackers. These were captured "with- 
out the loss of a man on our side." 

October 7th, 1863. 

Colonel Luce is going home again, on furlough, to 
recruit. He takes with him three officers of the line 
and ten Sergeants — one from each company. They 
are to be gone sixty days. If enlisting is "played 
out," as many claim, sending men from active service 
for the purpose of soliciting enlistments is the height of 
folly. Perhaps there is so little for us to do just now, 
we may as well be in Michigan as Tennessee. If 
that is so, why not send all of us home? 



Story of a Volunteer. 103 

October 9th. 

At daylight yesterday we were ordered to be ready 
to march at 9 o'clock. It had been rumored for sev- 
eral days the Rebels had possession of Greenville, 
seventy-five miles up the valley, and that our forces 
were falling back toward Morristown. The Second 
Brigade was sent that way last week. Monday the 
First Brigade of the First Division moved forward to 
Morristown and was followed on Wednesday by the 
Second. Today the Third Brigade follows. 

The Second and Twentieth Michigan Infantry and 
the One Hundredth Pennsylvania have gone, and we 
are momentarily expecting the train which is to take us. 
General Wilcox has arrived with five thousand new 
troops, and is at Morristown. We have, also, a 
heavy force of mounted infantry and cavalry at Green- 
ville. The Rebels are reported eight thousand strong. 
The intention is to lure them on to near Bulls Gap, 
and, while the mounted men work around the moun- 
tains to their rear, we close in on them in front and 
grind them between us. 

Burnside went to the front today, from which I 
infer there is work to be done. This line of railroad 
is of the utmost importance to Virginia Rebels. They 
cannot safely winter there without it, and they will 
make a desperate effort to regain control of it. 

October 12th, 1863. 
We left Knoxville at 9 a. m. of Saturday and 
arrived within ten miles of Greenville about sundown. 
The hills and valleys were covered with troops, those 



1D4 A Soldier's Diary. 

in front in line of battle. Artillery and musketry 
could be heard about two miles in front, and we were 
told there had been skirmishing in front nearly all day. 
It was nearly dark, and our brigade, being in front, 
we marched about half a mile and encamped for the 
night. Before it was fairly light the next morning we 
joined our brigade, which was in the extreme front, 
supporting a battery. Every preparation had been 
made for a "big fight," and our boys awaited the 
attack with eager anticipation. Skirmishers were 
thrown out to ascertain the position of their ipxfantry, 
that our batteries might open the ball by a salute at 
sunrise. Our skirmishers soon returned — they had 
found no enemy. Instantly away dashed a regiment 
of cavalry in hot pursuit, followed by the First Divi- 
sion — the Seventeenth in advance. We did some 
fast marching for about two hours, when we halted 
for two mounted brigades to pass. Here we learned 
the Rebels passed through Greenville about daylight, 
and were some ten miles ahead, making the best time 
possible. But Foster's cavalry had been sent around 
to intercept them should they retreat. 

He was expected to cross the river at a ferry fifteen 
miles above Greenville and intercept them in a ravine 
about five miles beyond. But the ferry boats had been 
destroyed, and he was compelled to go several miles 
to a ford, which caused so much delay he did not 
arrive in time. We followed several miles and gave 
up the pursuit. 



Story of a Volunteer. 105 

October 14th. 

Our part in this expedition is done, and we are on 
our way back to Knoxville. Wilcox's "baby brig- 
ade," as our boys call them, and the Twenty-third 
Corps, together with cavalry and mounted infantry, 
are following up the retreating Rebels. I have not 
learned the result of the fight, and probably will not 
for some days to come. Over a hundred of their dead 
are buried at Blue Springs, where our forces first over- 
took them, and as far as I went — which was fifteen 
miles — every house was filled with their wounded. 

I saw some were from Lee's army. One Lieuten- 
ant said he remembered seeing our regiment at Fred- 
ericksburg. He had stood picket opposite our boys 
several times. There was a brigade from the Rap- 
pahannock. Their force, he said, was about eight 
thousand, all mounted. The facts in the case were 
about as follows: Burnside had cleared his depart- 
ment of armed Rebels and had advanced into Vir- 
ginia as far as Salt Town, where the Rebels had 
extensive salt works, strongly fortified. Before he 
could concentrate sufficient force to destroy these 
works, word came that Rosa was in danger — that 
Burnside was to hold himself in readiness to reinforce 
him at a minute's notice. In order to do this he 
must withdraw all his forces from the northeast and 
concentrate them near Knoxville. 

The Rebels followed up as he fell back, and occu- 
pied the positions he had driven them from. 

Before Burnside reached Morristown, word came 
from Rosa that he was safe inside his fortifications and 



106 A Soldier's Diary. 

was being rapidly reinforced by Grant. This left 
Burnside free to do over again what had been undone, 
but through no fault of his. 

It was a touching sight to witness the joy of these 
much-abused people at our return. Men who had 
fled to the bush as the Rebels advanced, and dare 
not, for their lives, appear, came flocking in and were 
welcomed with tears and shouts of joy by wives and 
children. Their gratitude was unbounded. 

As I witnessed the delight of these people and 
listened to their tales of suffering, I felt more than ever 
that I was engaged in a just and holy cause, and my- 
heart was strengthened to do etnd dare for human 
liberty. 



Story of a Volunteer. 107 



CHAPTER XXI. 

Knoxvilie, Tenn., October 18th, 1863. 

Once more have my eyes been gladdened and my 
heart made to rejoice by the reception of love's sweet 
messengers — letters from home. How anxiously have 
I watched and waited, and what a load has been 
removed by those grateful words, "Well as usual." 

But eighteen days is a long time to await tidings of 
those we love. Arrangements are being made to 
have our mail carried over the mountains on pack 
mules. When these arrangements are completed 1 
think there will be more regularity. 

We are encamped again near the city, awaiting 
whatever may turn up. The regiment is in excellent 
health and spirits. We have become accustomed to 
soldiers' fare; nothing seems to affect us. There is a 
striking contrast between old troops and new. When 
in pursuit of the Rebels beyond Greenville, Wilcox's 
men tired out and were withdrawn from the chase, 
while we pursued ten miles further. They are six 
and nine months men from Indiana. 

I see by Northern papers that Rebel sympathizers 
hope to carry Ohio, New York and Pennsylvania in 
the coming election, and this hope nerves the Rebel, 
leaders to make the most desperate efforts to hold out 
yet a little longer. They are doomed to disappoint- 
ment. These states will give an overwhelming major- 
ity for the Union. 



108 A Soldier's Diary. 

Loudon, Tenn., October 21st, 1863. 

We left Knoxville yesterday at 3 a. m. and took 
up our line of march for Kingston, forty miles dis- 
tant, expecting to make it in three days. We took it 
leisurely and halted at 1 o'clock for dinner, having 
made twelve miles. We rested two hours and dined 
on hardtack and coffee. In the afternoon we marched 
six miles further and encaimped for the night. The 
weather is delightful and roads good, which makes 
eighteen miles a day only gentle exercise. Very much 
depends on this. It is more tiresome to march ten 
miles when the roads are wet and slippery than twice 
that distance when dry and firm. We had hardly ar- 
rived in camp before the report of a dozen rifles told 
us the work of slaughter had begun. 

Before dark good, fat beef was issued, and we 
supped on coffee, hardtack and beef. We have 
drawn nothing else, except sugar, since leaving Crab 
Orchard, and now we are getting only h2ilf rations of 
coffee and sugar. This morning we were aroused at 
3 o'clock, two hours earlier than the usual time when 
on the march, but we "tumbled out," made coffee, 
fried beef, ate our breakfast, dried and rolled up our 
tents and blankets, and at 4 o'clock were ready for 
business. At 5 o'clock the bugle sounded "fall in," 
aAd in fifteen minutes the whole division was in motion. 
But not toward Kingston. I soon learned that 
Colonel Wolford was in a "fix," and we were on the 
way to help him out. Cannonading could be heard 
in the direction of Loudon Bridge, which served as a 
stimulant, and away we dashed, making fifteen miles 



Story of a Volunteer. 109 

by 1 1 o'clock. We were now within two miles of 
the bridge, and halted in a piece of timber. Here we 
learned that the crisis had passed, and Colonel Leisure 
told us to make ourselves comfortable as possible until 
morning. 

Loudon bridge crosses the Holston a short distance 
above its junction with the Clinch. These two form 
the Tennessee. The railroad from Bristol to Lou- 
don is entirely in our possession. From this place 
to Cleveland the rebels have small forces at different 
points. We have strong fortifications on this side the 
river, occupied by the Twenty-third Corps, who have 
just completed a pontoon bridge. Wolford, with a 
brigade of cavalry and mounted infantry crossed this 
bridge, advanced about six miles and began to fortify. 
One regiment was sent out to look for the enemy. 
Forage being scarce and hard to get, another was sent 
off with a train to gather forage. Just at this critical 
moment, when he was least prepared, the Rebels 
threw a force of five thousand troops between him and 
the bridge, thus cutting otf his retreat, and summoned 
him to surrender. To oppose them Wolford had two 
regiments of cavalry, a battery of six pieces, but no 
ammunition. What was to be done — surrender > 
His case looked desperate ; some might have considered 
it hopeless; but "Wolf" was only indignant. He 
bared his teeth and growled, "What! me surrender? 
Why, man, I'm here to fight. Go back and tell your 
people I'll call on them directly." He spiked his use- 
less cannon and abandoned them; put himself at 
the head of his brave followers and hurls them like an 



110 A Soldier's Diaiy. 

avalanche upon the enemy's center; cuts his way 
through their line, taking ninety prisoners, reached the 
bridge with little loss, while our artillery on this side 
made pursuit impossible. This took place yesterday. 
This morning, having been reinforced, he crossed the 
river to offer them battle. He found them but two 
miles away, and immediately engaged them. When 
we arrived here the roar of artillery could be distinctly 
heard, but gradually it grew faint and fainter, until 
at sundown it had died away in the distance. 

October 22d. 
Active warfare is said to be like a game of chess, 
and it is sufficiently active in West Tennessee just 
now. An unexpected counter move has brought us 
to this place. The force that attacked Wolford turns 
out to be the advance of a large army under Long- 
street. Strange that, after marching so many thou- 
sands of miles, as we have done this sum.mer, the for- 
tunes of war should again throw us together. 

Loudon, October 23d, 1 863, 7 p. m. 

This has been a dismal day. It reminds me of the 
day we crossed the Potomac last fall. It began to 
rain at 5 o'clock this morning, and has rained all day, 
and there is every prospect of a wet night. 

I never think of that fearful night without a thrill of 
horror. I marched all that day in the pelting rain, 
soaked to the skin, and when night came, weary as I 
was, I faced the fierce northern blasts until morning. 
I date all my suffering from that dreadful night. 



Story of a Volunteer. Ill 

Although this storm reminds me of that day, and, 
under similar circumstances would have been quite as 
unpleasant, yet I have passed it quite comfortably. 
My comrade and I have a good tent, each of us a 
blanket and rubber ponchos, w^hich enables us to keep 
dry and warm. These rubbers are very useful. If 
overtaken by a storm while on the march, not only is 
the person kept dry, but his blankets and haversack. 
At night we spread it on the ground, and no moisture 
can reach the person. 

But this storm; what w^ill be its effect on military 
operations here? I confess to a feeling of anxiety; I 
fear we are to be again "stuck in the mud," as at 
Fredericksburg. If this is really the beginning of the 
rainy season, we can do but little more. And so 
much remains to be done. We must occupy and 
hold this railroad, or evacuate East Tennessee, and 
that right speedily. We can get supplies in no other 
way. There are not mules enough in the United 
States to haul our supplies over the mountains in the 
winter. In fact, now, when the roads, are compara- 
tively good, it cannot be done. We have been on 
half rations ever since we crossed the mountains. 

But away with such gloomy thoughts, and let faith 
and hope prevail. Tomorrow may bring forth light 
from this pall of darkness. 



112 A Soldier's Diary. 



CHAPTER XXII. 

Loudon. October 25th. 1863. 

The storm has passed away, and the sun shines out 
warm and genial. The roads are in fearful condi- 
tion, but getting better. 

Yesterday all the teams, and everything and every- 
body that could not fight, were sent to the rear. Every 
preparation was made to repel the expected attack; 
things packed and we lay all day behind our arms 
with all equipments on, ready for instant use. About 
8 o'ck>ck a strong force was sent out to reconnoitre 
Toward night we could hear the dull boom of distant 
cannon, feeling for the enemy. Impatiently we 
awaited the result. 

October 27th. 
Everything remains precisely as it was three days 
ago. We are not allowed to leave camp, at least 
beyond bugle call. Our guns must be kept in perfect 
order, ready for instant use. Artillery horses wear 
their harness night and day. In fact, we are ready 
for attack, advance or retreat at a minute's notice. 
Each morning the cavalry goes to the front, skirmish 
with the enemy, watch their movements through the 
day and return to camp at night. Matters wear a 
strange aspect; the Rebels seem playing with us; now 



Story of a Volunteer. 113 

advancing, now retiring. I know not what to think 
of the way things are working. 

Lenoir, Tenn., October 28th, 1863. 

1 said yesterday that I was puzzled. I am more 
than ever today. I am confounded, disappointed, 
chagrined. 

Our forces evacuated Loudon early this morning. 
The Rebels took immediate possession. Everything 
of value that could not be removed was destroyed. 
Only last night a locomotive was run across the rivet 
to be used on that side as we advanced. Four cars 
had been left there by the Rebels when they evacu- 
ated. As we had no time to remove them, the engin- 
eer put on steam and ran them off the embankment 
into the river. The Union people left with us. We 
have fallen back six miles and encamped for the night. 
A strong force is posted on the heights to prevent sur- 
prise. 

I am simply stating facts as they occur. Of course, 
I cannot know the whys and wherefores of these move- 
ments. Perhaps they are part of the "original plan," 
and not a retreat. We all have confidence in Burn- 
side, but, if we do not see Knoxville between now and 
Sunday I am much mistaken. To my heated imag- 
ination the Cumberland Mountains loom up with won- 
derful distinctness. 

Lenoir, October 29th. 

Another letter from home last night, dated October 
16th. Only four letters in two months; I find, too, 
my letters are quite as irregular. 



114 A Soldier's Diary. 

I have just learned that Lieutenant Miller starts for 
home at 6 o'clock tomorrow morning. He will visit 
my loved ones and tell them all the news. I know not 
how to express myself in regard to our present situa 
tion. I am glad we were not forced to retreat. Still, 
I am certain we could have held those heights, and to 
leave without firing a gun! Oh, for a few Wol- 
fords and Grants — men who are "here to fight." 

All sorts of rumors are afloat. "Bragg, with all 
his army, is advancing." Longstreet is crossing the 
river six miles below Kingston to flank us on the right. 
Another heavy force is on our left, making for Knox- 
ville. "Wilcox has been driven back from the east," 
and a hundred others equally encouraging. We know 
not what to think of it, and yet must criticise and form 
conclusions. But it is all explained at last. We fell 
in at 1 o'clock today, marched about a mile to a beau- 
tiful grove near a large spring of never-failing water. 
Here our division formed in line and stacked arms, 
with orders to remain in line until further notice. 
Lieutenant Colonel Comstock soon called our regiment 
to "attention," ordered company commanders in front 
of center, and then and there revealed to them the 
long-wished-for intelligence. All officers and men 
were taken by surprise. We were prepared to hear 
of some great calamity, but not for this. Nothing like 
it had ever before happened to the Ninth Army Corps. 
"Our fall campaign is closed. Prepare for yourselves 
comfortable quarters for the winter." For a moment 
there was a silence that could be felt, then a sho«ii 
went up that "rent the heavens and shook the ever- 



Story of a Volunteer. 115 

lasting hills." Not simply because we were ordered 
to prepare winter quarters, but a mysterious movement 
had been explained — a weight of anxiety removed. 

Lenoir, October 31st, 1863. 
We are working like beavers, building our little 
houses. They are to be eight feet by ten, and will 
accommodate four persons. Nothing can be heard 
but the clatter of axes and the crash of falling timber. 
Only the First Division is stationed here. This is said 
to be the lower extremity of Burnside's department. 
It is something like Fredericksburg, in this: Our 
pickets are stationed on opposite sides of the river 
within hailing distance. Colonel Leisure says a sup- 
ply train is almost here. When it comes, our empty 
haversacks are to be filled and our rags exchanged for 
clothes. Everything is to be very precise and regular, 
as becomes an army of veterans. 

Lenoir, November 10th, 1863. 
No sooner was the order to build winter quarters 
given than the men scattered in all directions in search 
of material. There are many forsaken buildings in 
this vicinity. These were visited, the siding ripped 
off, floors torn up, chimneys, if brick, pulled down, and 
the material appropriated. Hundreds of men 
worked all night, and by morning had lumber enough 
to build bunks, floors and gable ends to their build- 
ings. The reason of this all-night work was to get 
the start of the officers. They knew, by past expe- 
rience, all building material would soon be put under 



116 A Soldier's Diary. 

guard for the use of officers. A large brick store- 
house at the depot had been burned. This was seized 
by headquarters. Not a brick could be obtained, 
only as it was stolen in the night. Just the same, the 
boys all had brick chimneys. 

Not being disposed to work nights or Sundays, my 
tent mates and myself did not begin to build until 
Monday morning. In the forenoon we cut our logs 
and carried them about half a mile on our backs. In 
the afternoon two of us laid the foundations, while the 
other two went with the Sutler's team for a load of 
stone for our chimney. They also picked up a few 
boards. Tuesday we began to build in earnest — two 
at the house and two at the chimney — carrying them 
both up together. At night it was ready for the roof. 
Wednesday we "chunked and daubed" it, and put 
on the roof, built our bunks, and, toward night, moved 
in. Thursday we finished the chimney, put up 
shelves, etc. We have a warm, comfortable house, 
seven logs high, roofed with two thicknesses of tent 
cloth, which makes a very good roof. Our bunk is 
in one end, and occupies four feet across it, leaving a 
room six feet by eight. We have a splendid fireplace 
— back and jambs of stone, the top of sticks. In one 
corner are shelves for our dishes. On one side of the 
room is a drop table, which we button to the wall 
when not in use. Our bunk is not made of poles, 
rough and crooked, like those of last winter, but of 
pine boards, soft and luxurious. 

On Thursday we had regimental inspection of 
arms. I told the boys I heard "m.usic in the air," but 



Story of a Volunteer. 117 

they could not believe it. It was there, however. 
About 1 o'clock in the evening Captain Tyler came 
to our tent and called for me. He told me to wake 
the boys and tell them to pack their things and be 
ready to take cars in half an hour for Knoxville. 
Here was a fix — to leave our soft beds and warm 
houses, our winter quarters, and go out into the cold — 
it was bitter cold — to ride on the top of cars twenty, 
perhaps seventy-five miles, and sleep — if sleep we 
might — on the cold, damp ground, and march twenty 
or thirty miles a day on half rations. But away we 
went, the Third Brigade only, to the station. It was 
2 o'clock in the morning before the cars were ready, 
and we reached Knoxville a little after sunrise. 
Here we learned the cause of the movement. The 
Rebels had made a dash on Wilcox, near Greenville, 
capturing a section of the Second Ohio Battery and 
part of the Second Tennessee Mounted Infantry. Not 
knowing their strength, we were ordered to be within 
supporting distance while a force of cavalry was sent 
out to reconnoitre. We drew full rations of soft 
bread and beef, and lay on the cars, the engine keep- 
ing up steam until about 4 p. m. We then encamped 
for the night. Next morning we again drew rations, 
packed our things and awaited orders with impatience. 
But no orders came, and there we lay and waited all 
that livelong day. 



118 A Soldier's Diary. 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

Lenoir, Tenn., November 11th, 1863. 

This morning we were aroused by the Orderly at 3 
o'clock, with orders to be ready to move at daylight. 
We sprang out of bed, built fires, cooked breakfast, 
which consisted of pancakes made of wheat flour and 
com meal, issued in place of bread, beefsteak and 
coffee; packed up, and then sat down to await the 
coming of day. At 6 o'clock the bugle sounded, and 
we fell in and stacked arms. We then received orders 
to go to our quarters and be ready to fall in at a min- 
ute's notice. And so the matter has stood all day, 
and still remains. The reason for the movement is 
as follows: The Second Division has been engaged 
today in throwing a pontoon bridge across the Holston 
about a mile from here, and, not knowing the strength 
of the enemy, on the opposite side, we are to be 
ready to support them if necessary. 

The bridge is nearly completed, and the Rebels 
have not shown themselves. Tomorrow the Second 
Division is to cross over. I understand they are to 
build winter quarters on the other side. 

A "contraband" came into camp yesterday and 
reported himself direct from Rebeldom. He appeared 
intelligent, and told a straightforward story. He 
reports the Rebels in strong force across the river, and 



Story of a Volunteer. 119 

says they are building pontoons in which to cross over 
to attack us. His information was considered so 
important General Ferrera sent him, under guard, to 
General Bumside at Knoxville. 

Lenoir, Tenn., November 15th, 1863. 

As the men are confined to camp, they busy them- 
selves by cleaning up the accumulated rubbish. Our 
camp begins to put on airs. The men must get some 
clothing before they can do so. I see no prospect ot 
it yet. The day has been most delightful — warm, 
bright and mellow. The weather here, as with us at 
this season of the year, is subject to sudden changes. 
Today it may be warm as summer; tomorrow the 
wind may change to the north and be cold as winter. 
Wood is abundant and of good quality — mostly 
white oak and hickory. But should we stay here all 
winter, there will not be a tree left within five miles 
of here. We have already cleared about fifty acres. 

Spite of appearances, I cannot think we will remain 
here until spring. I cannot see — perhaps I have no 
right to try to see — where our supplies are to come 
from, or, rather, how they are to come. We have 
only six weeks quarter rations on hand, and the roads 
over the mountains are nearly impassable. There is 
some wheat and corn in the valley, which is being 
gathered in for the use of the army, but this cannot 
last long. Such an army, like the locusts of Egypt, 
will soon "devour every green thing." Even now 
hundreds of citizens are leaving for the North to 
escape the impending famine. In view of these facts, 



120 A Soldier's Diary. 

which are fully understood by every man in the regi- 
ment, one would expect them to be down-hearted and 
discouraged. Such is not the fact. The few men 
who are left are resolute, determined men, ready to 
suffer privation, to endure hardship, anything to 
advance the cause for which they are contending. 
An order is given to prepare for inspection. The 
Assistant Secretary of War is here to inspect the Ninth 
Corps. This may be an exception, but, as a rule, 
inspection means move. 

I happened to get hold of a copy of the Detroit 
Free Press dated October 25 th. From it I learn 
conscription has been postponed in Michigan until 
the 5 th of November. By that time they hope to fill 
the quota by volunteers. I would like to see the 
North exhibit the energy and ability displayed by the 
South, but one-half seems to be asleep, the other half 
— mad. 

Lenoir, Tenn., November 14th, 1863. 
We have been under orders for several days to be 
ready to fall in at a minute's notice. That order was 
repeated at 3 o'clock this morning. We had become 
so accustomed to it, we began to think it only form, 
and meant nothing. At sunrise, however, we were 
startled by the order, "Pack everything and be readv 
to march immediately, bag and baggage." Officers' 
baggage was put on wagons, the sick in ambulances, 
supplies of food and clothing — a fresh supply had but 
just arrived — were reloaded, and the whole train 
headed toward Knoxville. 



Story of a Volunteer. 121 

Our consternation can better be imagined than 
described. Every movement spoke of evacuation; of 
hasty, inglorious retreat. About 10 o'clock the cars 
came screaming in from Knoxville, bringing General 
Burnside. The wagon train was nearly formed, and, 
in half an hour, everything would have been ready for 
a general stampede. At 1 o'clock the bugle sounded 
fall in, and off we started toward Loudon. It soon 
leaked out the Rebels are crossing six miles below 
Loudon, and Burnside's arrival had changed the pro- 
gram. So away we went, through rain and mud, 
fourteen miles without stopping to rest, rejoicing it 
was not, after all, an ignominous retreat. We halted 
a little after dark in a thick wood, with orders to light 
no fires, but remain beside our arms, ready to fall 
in when called on. It had been very warm during 
the day, raining at times, and those not wet with rain 
were wet with sweat. Toward night the wind had 
changed, and it was bitter cold. And there we sat, 
two hours or more, cold and hungry, having eaten 
nothing since morning. The men began to grow 
impatient. The First Brigade were on our left, and 
fires burned brightly all along their line. Why could 
not we have fires? Tom Epley, of our company, 
thought we could, and away he goes for a coal of 
fire, while others gather wood and kindlings. But 
our lynx-eyed Adjutant discovers it, and down he 
comes. "Who built that fire?" says he. "I did, 
sir," says Tom. "Didn't you know 'twas against 
orders?" "No, sir; I thought the order was one fire 
to a company, sir." "You must put it out." 



122 A Soldier's Diary. 

"Then how the h — 1 are we to cook? Do you think 
we can march all day in rain and mud and eat flour 
and raw beef?** **It*s tough, boys,** says the Adju- 
tant, **but that*s the order.** Tom did not put out 
the fire, but built it larger, and soon the order came, 
"One fire to a company.*' 



Story of a Volunteer. 123 



CHAPTER XXIV. 

We kept our fires brightly burning all night, expect- 
ing each moment the coming order. At 4 o'clock it 
came. Fall in, boys, very quietly, and quick as pos- 
sible. Then, "about face," and off we went in the 
darkness, taking precisely the route we came. What 
was the meaning of this backward move? Our 
officers agreed it was to draw them out from the 
river that we might cut otf their retreat and "bag 
them," as is our custom. We marched slowly and 
reached Lenoir about 2 p. m., when we formed in 
line of battle. At dark the Eighth Michigan was 
thrown out as skirmishers, or outpost pickets. They 
advanced about four miles on the Jamestown road, 
and as they formed their last post were fired on by 
Rebel pickets. The Rebels then rallied their skir- 
mishers and charged the Eighth, which fell back to 
within a m.ile of our line of battle. They then faced 
about, charged the advancing Rebels, drove them a 
short distance, and held them until relieved. I now 
began to see how matters stood. The enemy had 
pursued us promptly and with energy; we were in 
line of battle awaiting an attack. Would they attack 
us before daylight? Probably not, as we held a 
good position. Will we await an attack or retire 
during the night? Of the latter I was confident. 



124 A Soldier's Diary. 

judging by what I saw and heard. Fires were kepi 
up along the whole line, and some of the boys, worn 
out with fasting and marching, wrapped themselves 
in their blankets and lay down and slept. But there 
was no sleep for me, and there I sat, listening to every 
sound, watching every move. Two trains of cars, 
heavily loaded with supplies, crept slowly away 
toward Knoxville, the very engines seeming to hold 
their breath fearful of exciting suspicion. The dis- 
tant rattle of wheels told me the wagon train was 
falling into line, and the bright glare of fire at the 
depot spoke of government property being sacrificed 
because there was no time to remove it. At 2 o'clock 
I heard the artillery on the hill near us, and which we 
were supporting, move away and join the train. A 
few minutes later we followed the artillery, silent as 
an army of spectres. Our regimental Surgeon and 
his staff occupied a tent a few rods in the rear of the 
regiment. Before we had proceeded a dozen yards 
I missed them and asked our Captain if they had gone 
on ahead. He seemed puzzled, as their place was 
in the rear. Perhaps, he said, they were not notified 
— had been overlooked in the confusion — if so, they 
will be captured. I asked permission to go back and 
warn them of their danger. I found them soundly 
sleeping in their tent, aroused them, and in a few 
hurried whispers explained the situation — then struck 
across the fields for the Knoxville road. About two 
m.iles distant we came across a body of troops resting 
beside stacked arms. Near by we found our regi- 
ment, and all was well. 



Story of a Volunteer. 126 

Knoxville, November 18th, 1863. 
It was now about 4 a. m., and daylight would 
soon appear. The whole corps was waiting for the 
artillery and wagon train to get a reasonable start. 
Much rain had fallen and the roads were heavy; 
horses and mules were poor. About one hundred 
wagons, heavily loaded with army supplies, were 
abandoned because we had not time to burn them. 
A large amount of bread, bacon, sugar and clothing 
were thus turned over to Longstreet's Quartermaster. 
Just as daylight appeared we filed into the road en 
route for Knoxville. The Third Brigade was in the 
rear, and our regiment was detailed as rear guard, 
the post of honor and danger. One company of 
cavalry, all we had, was left to finish the work of 
destruction and to act as scouts. We were hardly 
out of sight before the Rebel cavalry made a dash, 
capturing several and scattering the rest. Their 
infantry was not far behind. They pursued and 
closed in on us with relentless fury. When too hard 
pressed, our little band would turn and charge with 
fixed bayonets, thus holding them in check while the 
others made a little headway. Mile after mile was 
fought over in this way, every inch contested, but all 
would not do. They pressed our Rank and rear 
until Burnside was compelled to turn and fight them. 
The Knoxville road, in the vicinity of Campbell Sta- 
tion, leads through a ravine from one to two miles wide 
hemmed in by mountains or high hills, which render 
a flank movement well-nigh impossible. At the head 
of this ravine Burnside massed his artillery — 120 



126 A Soldier's Diary. 

pieces — formed his infantry in their rear for support, 
and awaited the assault. From our position we had 
an almost unobstructed view of what was taking place 
in front. No artillery could be seen; nothing but 
infantry. We could see them file out from a piece of 
timber and form in line, from hill to hill and rank on 
rank. At the word they moved forward, colors 
flying, shoulder to shoulder, a compact mass, seem- 
ingly irresistible. At a given signal from the head 
of the valley a sheet of flame bursts forth with a 
crash that shakes the earth — a blast of iron hail 
sweeps those serried ranks, opening wide gaps. They 
close and stubbornly move on. Again that withering 
flame; again that blast of death, and they recoil. 
Three times they make the attempt, and three times 
failed — then darkness closed the scene. By this time 
our wagon train was far on its way toward Knoxville, 
leaving the road unobstructed. One by one our can- 
non disentangled itself and straightened out on the 
line of retreat. The infantry closed in on its rear, 
making the best tim.e we knew, hoping to reach Knox- 
ville before daylight. We arrived at 3 a. m. 

At sunrise the Rebels were within five miles of us. 
Our position is naturally strong, and our men were at 
once set to work to make it stronger. By 3 p, m. 
rifle pits encircled the city from river to river. When 
they were completed our brigade bands formed on the 
top of the hill and played 'The Red, White and 
Blue," "When This Cruel War Is Over," "Rally 
'Round the Flag, Boys," and finished up with 
"Yankee Doodle," to which the boys responded with 



Story of a Volunteer. 127 

a yell of defiance as we stepped down into our 
ditches. We were ready for them, and every man ot 
us understood we must whip them here or be taken 
prisoners. 

Longstreet advanced leisurely, knowing we could 
go no further, and confident in his strength, for ho 
outnumbered us three to one. But he evidently did 
not know our weakness. When stretched around 
the city we formed a very thin line; indeed, the men 
in trenches standing fully six feet apart. He might 
have carried our hastily-constructed works by assault, 
but it seems he chose to adopt the more humane 
method, and starve us out. The delay proved our 
salvation. In our retreat from Lenoir the Seven- 
teenth lost 1 1 4 killed, wounded and missing. 

Longstreet himself is on the ground, directing the 
placing of his men. I have seen him in many pre- 
vious campaigns, and know him by his form and the 
way he sits his snow-white horse. 



128 A Soldier's Diary. 



CHAPTER XXV. 

Knoxville. November 25th. 1863. 

Only seven days of siege, and our larder nearly 
empty. We have been on half rations since Sep- 
tember 25th, consequently had no surplus to fall back 
on. On the second day of the siege our rations were 
reduced to quarter rations. Now coffee and sugar 
have given out entirely. The men are constanUy 
under fire. The enemy have advanced their sharp- 
shooters to within one-fourth of a mile of our line. 
On the 20th they got possession of a house, just under 
the hill in our front, and annoyed us exceedingly. 
Colonel Comstock was ordered to burn it; he called 
for volunteers to perform the perilous feat. Instantly 
a company was formed, headed by A. J. Kelley, ot 
Company E, and led by Lieutenant Josiah Billingsly. 
The house was set on fire and burned to the ground, 
but the heroic Billingsly was killed by a shell on his 
return. 

Their sharpshooters had now advanced so near the 
men were forced to remain all day in their rifle pits. 
Every man who showed even his head became a tar- 
get. 

Yesterday morning, after it became fairly light, I 
jumped up on the embankment in front of me, as had 
been my custom, to see v/hat advancement the enemy 



Story of a Volunteer. 129 

had made during the night. I took one quick glance 
around, and as I looked I saw two curls of smoke 
directly in front of me; on the instant one bullet whis- 
tled over my head; another dropped into the sand at 
my feet. 

This morning Lieutenant Colonel Comstock 
received a mortal wound from one of them. A num 
ber of our boys have been wounded. The first four 
or five days of the siege our men divided up into 
reliefs and went up on the bank, in the rear of our 
pits, to cook and eat their food. On the 24th, as I 
was eating my breakfast, a rifle ball struck a camp 
kettle, standing beside me, and spilled its contents. 
About that time one of my comrades was struck in the 
face, the ball passing through both cheeks, nearly cut- 
ting off his tongue. Inspired by these gentle protests, 
we moved our kitchen over the brow of the hill, where 
we could cook and eat our "flapjacks" undisturbed. 

November 30th, 1863. 
Our rations touch the starvation limit, and still "the 
song and the jest goes round." Not a murmur, not 
a word of complaint. We simply "gird up our 
loins" a little tighter. Our fare now is one-fourth 
pound per man of a mixture made up of coarse black 
flour, bran and unbolted corn meal; beef in propor- 
tion; not half as much as a man would eat, even of 
that vile stuff, at one meal. Night before last our 
pickets were driven in and sixteen of our boys cap- 
tured. Last night an attack was made on Fort Saun- 
ders. We had expected a night attack and were on 



130 A Soldier's Diary. 

the alert. About 9 o'clock our pickets were driven 
in and the ball opened. It was "fast and furious" 
while it lasted, but was soon over. The Rebels lost 
about one thousand in this assault. 

Dr. Crosby, our Regimental Surgeon, has been to 
General Ferrera and got me detailed for hospital ser- 
vice, and has given me charge of a ward in the City 
Hospital. The doctor says he has discovered in me 
the "sympathetic touch," more soothing to irritated 
nerves than opiates. That is the way he puts it. 

Our doctor has the poetic temperament, although 
one would hardly suspect it by his looks. But he Is 
kind and tender to the sick and wounded, and skill- 
ful in his profession. 

It is rumored Grant is organizing a force to send to 
our relief. God speed him on his way, for we are 
on the verge of starvation. 



Knoxville, December 8th, 1863. 
Thanks to Almighty God — and General Grant — 
the crisis is passed. General Sherman arrived on the 
5 th inst., but Longstreet had fled, and he returned 
immediately to Chattanooga. Nobody seems to know 
the exact date of Longstreet's withdrawal. Our forces 
were sent out in pursuit yesterday, the 7th inst., but 
no enemy could be found. We have passed through 
a terrible ordeal. Twenty days and nights under 
fire. Twenty days with death or surrender staring 
us in the face — and surrender meant Andersonville, a 
fate worse than death. On our retreat from Lenoir 



Story of a Volunteer. 131 

we were compelled to leave most of our wounded. 
We have recovered our own and about three hundred 
wounded Rebels. 

Knoxville, Tenn., December 21st, 1863. 

I have been three weeks "head nurse" in the first 
ward of the First Brigade hospital. Dr. Crosby is 
with the regiment at Blains Cross Roads, about 
eighteen miles from here. Most of my patients are 
from my own regiment, and were wounded at 
Campbell's Station or during the siege of Knoxville. 
The building we occupy was once a court house. 
The room is about thirty feet by forty. There are 
two large fireplaces, one on each side of the room. 
There are now thirty-three patients. All but six of 
the wounded can walk about the room with or without 
the aid of crutches. Around each fireplace is a group 
of men, eagerly discussing the probability of being 
sent to Washington or Baltimore. At one end of the 
room, resting one arm on the railing that surrounds 
the "judgment seat," stands the "ward boss," trying 
to write to the loved ones at home. 

I am not on duty, but my patients ignore the fact, 
and frequently interrupt me with: "Mr. Lane, please 
step here a minute;" or, "Please give me a drink of 
water." I return and try to shut out all sights, all 
sounds, all thoughts but those of home. Vain effort. 
The voice of my favorite, Fred Byron, faintly strikes 
my ear: "Davie; oh, Davie!' Involuntarily I drop 
my pen and hasten to his side. "What is it, Fred> 
What can I do for you, my boy?" "Oh, I'm so 



132 A Soldier's Diary. 

tired, and nobody cares but you. That man with 
black whiskers handles me as though I am made of 
wood." I turn him gently over, adjust his bed and 
pillow, moisten his hot, feverish brow, and give him a 
sup of cool water. *'There, Fred, now go to sleep, 
and when you wake you will feel better." As I turn 
to leave him, after bidding him good-night, he grasps 
my hand in both of his. "Oh, Davie, you are so 
kind; nobody can do for me as you can." 

He is a German, from Massachusetts, nineteen 
years old, fair as Adonis — brave as a hero — which 
he is. 

I have many strong attachments here, and cannot 
well forsake them to return to the regiment. 

Knoxville, December 26th, 1863. 

I still remain at the hospital — can all winter if 1 
choose. The sick and wounded are doing fairly well. 
Most of them will soon be well enough to go home on 
furlough. They are to be sent fast as it may be safe 
for them. One squad starts tomorrow. The men 
are eager to get away from here — somewhere — any- 
where. 

This is called a United States General Hospital. 
It partakes of the nature of such an institution only so 
far as patients and shoulder-strapped doctors go 
toward making it one. And patients are becoming 
scarce, thank God. It is not a desirable place for 
convalescents, and, as soon as they are able, they 
gladly leave for their regiments. The wounded are 
all to have furloughs — so says the Surgeon — and they 



Story of a Volunteer. 133 

are very impatient. They would run any risk to 
escape this den of filth, privation and starvation. 

Think of a hospital where the patients have no bed- 
ding but the blankets they brought with them; no 
clothing but the dirty rags they wore from the field; 
no dishes but their tin cups and butcher knives; where 
there is no "bed pan," and only two night vessels 
for one hundred forty sick men; where washing is put 
off, week after week, for want of soap, there being not 
so much as one piece to wash hands with. I went to 
every store, grocery and sutler's shop in the city this 
morning, seeking soap and finding none. Where 
wounded soldiers are fed on coarse bread and beef or 
vegetable soup twice a day, and not half enough of 
this to satisfy. 

It is no valid excuse that hospital stores cannot be 
procured here. They might have been sent from 
Kentucky before this time. | Our troops — the Ninth 
Corps — in the field are in no better condition. They 
are encamped eighteen miles from here, unfit for duty 
for want of clothing ; all are ragged ; many have not a 
shoe to their feet or rags enough to cover them. 
Washington's army at Valley Forge is the only par- 
allel in the history of this Nation. We have drawn 
very little clothing since we started for Mississippi in 
June last. I saw our Quartermaster Sergeant yester- 
day, Mr. Woodin; he assures mo there is no prospect 
of our receiving supplies in the near future. What 1 
have said applies to the Ninth Corps only; the Twen- 
ty-third and other corps are well supplied. The rea- 
son given is we are out of our department, and there is 



134 A Soldier's Diary. 

no regular channel of supply. I have just drawn two 
months' pay. I intended to send every dollar of it 
to my wife, who needs it, but will be compelled to 
use some of it or go naked. I have only one shirt, 
and that is nearly worn out. Army shirts — no better 
than those issued to us — cost six dollars at the sutler's. 
My shoes are nearly off my feet, and army shoes cost 
four dollars. I am destitute of socks, and socks cost 
one dollar. I do not wish to find fault, but the 
thought will arise, if sutlers can get their goods over 
the mountains, why cannot the Government? Again, 
there is, and has been, a heavy stock of clothing at the 
Gap. Why don't they send it on? 

December 31st. 1863. 

A squad of ten convalescents left for the Nortli 
today. The balance of the wounded will go as fast 
as their condition will permit. Twenty-six, out of 
thirty in my ward, will be able to go by Wednesday 
next, and I will be left without patients. I rejoice 
with the poor fellows. The thought of going home, 
where kind friends can minister to their wants and 
supply their needs, is a wonderful tonic. 

There has been much excitement among the old 
regiments the past two weeks. 1 he Eighth Michigan 
boys have enlisted for "during the war," nearly every 
man. The same is true of several other regiments 
whose terms of service expire next spring. They are 
to have four hundred dollars bounty and thirty days' 
furlough. 



Story of a Volunteer. 136 

The Seventeenth is not included in this order, hav- 
ing over a year to serve. There is much talk of the 
Ninth Corps leaving this department. I wish 1 knew 
it to be true. 

January 4th, 1 864. 

It has been very cold the past four days. The day 
before New Year's was warm and rainy. Toward 
night the wind changed into the north, '*with a snap 
to it," as it does in Michigan sometimes. New Year's 
morning was very cold — not so many degrees, I pre- 
sume, by a score or two, as we frequently experience 
in Michigan — but quite as piercing to me as the cold- 
est weather at home. 

Today is v/arm as summer again. This is a delight- 
ful climate "overhead," the coldest weather being 
about like October with us. But the mud is really 
fearful. The roads are next to impassable four 
months of the twelve. I could not be induced to live 
here. I have been in fourteen different states; in most 
of them have traveled quite extensively, and have seen 
nothing yet that excels Michigan. True, some states 
possess advantages that Michigan does not, but they 
lack in others. Whenever I have thought of a change 
of residence, my feelings rebel, and I can but exclaim, 
"Give me my ov/n, my native land," for such I regard 
Michigan. 

January 5th, 1864. 

There are now thirty men in my ward. All but 
two are able to wait on themselves. There are six 
nurses to see them do it. It has not been so long, 
hov/ever. At first we had sixty of the worst cases 



136 A Soldier's Diary. 

in one room. When off duty, until day before yes- 
terday, the nurses had to shirk for themselves, sleep- 
ing on the floor in the room with the sick. Now we 
have a room eighteen by twenty, and warmed by a 
stove. There is a large building adjoining the hospi- 
tal assigned to convalescents. Each morning the sur- 
geon examines them all and sends such as he deems 
able to do duty, to their regiments. These convales- 
cents kept good fires, and I frequently went there to 
warai myself, when off duty. One morning the sur- 
geon, a new arrival and a stranger to me, noticed me 
standing by the fire, and thought from my appearance 
I was fit for duty. "To what regiment do you 
belong?" "The Seventeenth Michigan, sir." "How 
long have you been here?" "About six weeks." 
"What are you doing?" "Nursing." "WTiere?" 
"In the first ward." "What business have you here, 
then?" "No business, only to warm myself. It is 
rather cold standing in the street today, when off 
duty." "What, have the nurses no place to stay?" 
"No, sir; they are as poor as was the Son of Man; 
they have no place to lay their heads." 

This surgeon was Dr. Cogswell, of the Twenty- 
ninth Massachusetts, who had lately relieved Dr. Fox. 
In a few minutes I was notified this pleasant room was 
at our disposal. 

January 6th, 1864. 

It has snowed all day, and the night is fearfully 
cold, but in our new quarters we feel it not. 

This has been a day of unusual excitement in Knox- 
ville. A legal murder has been committed in public. 



Story of a Volunteer. 137 

In other words, a Rebel spy has been executed. His 
name is Dodd, of the Eighth Tennessee Cavalry. I 
did not witness the execution. I did not feel like it. 
I saw the procession as it passed my door. First, a 
regiment of soldiers; next a cart with the victim sitting 
on his coffin; behind, another regiment, with fixed 
bayonets. On each side, the street was crowded with 
men and women, eager to see a fellow mortal die. I 
am forced to see enough of human misery. Would 
God I might never see more. Oh, this cruel, mur- 
derous war! Will it never end? Perhaps, when 
political intrigue can keep it going no longer. 



138 A Soldier's Diary. 



CHAPTER XXVII. 

Knoxville, Tenn., January 6th, 1864. 
It is a serious thing to have the care of sick and 
wounded men. They are Hke children — fretful, 
impatient, exacting. I was a stranger to all but one 
when I came here; now I count my friends by scores. 
I endeavored to do my duty. My patients soon dis- 
covered this, and I do not lack employment. There 
is one old fellow — a Massachusetts man — wounded 
through the cheeks. He is as cross as a grizzly, fero- 
cious as a hyena. The nurses can do nothing with 
him. He cannot talk plain, and if they do not under- 
stand the first time, he fiies into a rage and curses them 
soundly. The first time he called on me to dress his 
wound he snatched the dish from my hand, saying he 
wanted some one to do it who understood it. I said 
nothing, but let him do it himself. The next day he 
asked me to warm som.e water to dress his wound. 
*'No," said I, "I will have nothing to do with you 
until you can treat me as one man should treat another. 
When that time comes I will do all I can for you, 
willingly, cheerfully." In a day or two he came to 
me and asked, very civilly, if I would try and get him 
some tea, as his mouth was so bad he could eat noth- 
ing. '*With pleasure," said L From that day he 
is my fast friend. The boys call him "the boss's pet 
tiger. 



Story of a Volunteer. 139 

January 1 1 th, 1 864. 

Our wounded continue to await with what patience 
they possess their departure to the land of promise — 
but their hearts grow sick and their spirits faint at the 
long delay. The cause assigned is "want of trans- 
portation, and cold weather. ' 

Since the 1st inst. the weather is very cold. The 
ground is frozen like a rock, and worn smooth as 
marble. Snow has not been over an inch deep — just 
enough to whiten the ground. The air is piercing; 
some mornings at 1 o'clock, when taking my morn- 
ing walk, the sun shining brightly the while, I have 
had my beard covered with frost in walking forty rods. 

Imagine the situation of the men of the Ninth Corps, 
in their little shelter tents, barefooted and naked, 
through weeks of such rugged weather. I saw Mr. 
Woodin today. He says they are still on quarter 
rations, with no prospect of an increase of supplies at 
present. They have been, at times, forced to issue 
corn in the ear. He says the men were never in bet- 
ter health or spirits. There is not a sick man in the 
regiment. 

Parson Brownlow has returned to his home. He 
continues to breathe out threatenings and denunciations 
against his secession brethren. I have not seen him, 
but, judging by his writings, I do not like the man. 
There is too much savage ferocity in his writings for 
an enlightened Christian. He is a man of great influ- 
ence here, and I thank God it is exerted on the side of 
the Union. 

I accidentally met an old acquaintance from Black- 



140 A Soldier's Diaiy. 

man today. I was passing the convalescents* room, 
when my attention was attracted by a countenance that 
had a familiar look. I halted, but did not feel quite 
sure. Presently our eyes met, and we recognized each 
other instantly. "My God, Mr. Lane, is that you?" 
**I believe it is," said I, "and you are Austin Draper." 
We had a lively chat for a few minutes. Oh, it is 
pleasant to meet one we have known at home! He 
belongs to the Ninth Michigan Cavalry. 

Our Chaplain has resigned and gone home. He 
told me, before he left, he was confident the Ninth 
will cross the mountains soon. Nearly all who have 
re-enlisted have gone already — fourteen regiments in 
all. The fact that no provision has been made for us 
here is conclusive proof, to me. It is the opinion of 
those generally best informed that we will go to New- 
port News to reorganize. 

Evidently there is to be another summer campaign. 
Our friends, the loyal people of the North, have made 
it necessary by defeating the draft, which, practically, 
they have done. Fifty thousand — of the three hun- 
dred thousand called for — is the pitiful number real- 
ized; and it took from the field, at the time they were 
most needed there, forty thousand of our best men to 
secure these doubtful ones. The loyal people of 
Michigan, by combining to pay the conscription fee, 
did more to defeat the draft than did Horatio Sey- 
mour 2md his copperhead allies by resistance; for their 
resistance was put down by force. 

It seems Congress is about to repeal that precious 
clause, and make it what its name im.plies, a bill to 



Story of a Volunteer. 14 i 

raise men, not money. These are my individual 
thoughts and impressions, and may be all wrong, but I 
cannot help believing the course pursued will tend to 
prolong the war. In my eagerness to get home, to 
enjoy the dear companionship of my family, I have, 
at times, been led to set bounds — to limit the dura- 
tion of the strife — forgetting, for the time, that the 
American people, through and by this struggle, are to 
be purified and brought up to their professions of lib- 
erty. 

Our sky is again overcast. Doubt and uncer- 
tainty have taken the place of confidence and fancied 
security. All day yesterday and today reports from 
the front are most discouraging. Our forces are fall- 
ing back. Longstreet is said to be advancing with 
an overwhelming force. Many begin to fear another 
siege. Cavalry have been passing through the city 
the last forty-eight hours, with the usual stampede of 
citizens. Something is in the wind. Is it a "strategic 
movement," or is it a retreat? I cannot believe that 
we are forced to fly from Longstreet alone. Has Lee 
joined forces with him to sweep us from East Ten- 
nessee? There has been but little fighting, and that 
little is confined to cavalry. Still, everything has the 
appearance of a hasty retreat. 

At midnight last night the sick were ordered by 
train to Knoxville. All supplies were sent across the 
river at Strawberry Plains, and the bridge, a new one, 
was coated with tar, that it might be destroyed at 
short notice. Wagons loaded with provisions were 
burned. The most significant feature of all is, the 



142 A Soldier's Diary. 

Ninth Corps is ordered to hold the bridge, and three 
Ohio regiments, on their way home, were halted at 
Loudon until further orders. 

"Verily, these are troubulous times and changeful." 

January 20th. 

Nothing reliable from the front. All sorts of rumors 
prevail, but so contradictory one can believe none of 
them. 

Early this morning infantry began to come in, or 
rather to pour through, in the wake of the cavalry. 
All day long they came, a ceaseless flood. They 
belong to the Fourth Corps. I could get nothing satis- 
factory from them, only they were going to Louisville. 
After all, it may be only a change of position. 

January 21st. 

The tumult increases. Our forces have burned the 
bridge at Strawberry Plains and have fallen back to 
within six miles of Knoxville. The wagon train 
arrived here this morning — also the usual number of 
stragglers. 

I said the wagon train arrived. I should have said 
the little that remains of it. It was mostly destroyed 
or left for the enemy. It is the general belief that 
Longstreet has been heavily re-enforced and is about 
to make a determined effort to regain possession of 
East Tennessee. 



Story of a Volunteer. 143 

January 23d. 
AH is quiet here again. The Rebels have retired 
from Knoxville, the scene of their late endeavor. The 
Fourth Corps went to Loudon, the Ninth to Concord, 
the Twenty-third remains here. Our regiment drew 
clothing yesterday, and have the promise of full rations 
tomorrow. 



144 A Soldier's Diary. 



CHAPTER XXVIII. 

Knoxville, January 25th, 1864. 
I saw Lieutenant Hurd, of our regiment, today. 
They are in camp five miles down the river. The 
Ninth Corps is turning over to the Government all 
horses and mules, reserving one team for each regi- 
ment. They are under marching orders, and are to 
draw eight days' rations today. The Lieutenant is 
so certain they start for the north in a day or two he 
offers to *'bet any amount." He says Bumside has 
authority to recruit his corps to fifty thousand. We 
are having delightful weather, mild and balmy as May. 
Our chief surgeon, Dr. Bevere, was '* gobbled" on the 
late retreat from Strawberry Plains. He halted at a 
farm house for dinner. His attendants rode on about 
half a mile, built a fire and cooked their own dinner. 
They had finished their repast and were preparing to 
mount when they saw a squad of Rebel cavalry dash 
up and surround the house. Nothing has been seen 
or heard of the Doctor since. 

January 28th, 1864. 
The all-absorbing topic with the Ninth Corps con- 
tinues to be the probability of our speedy departure. 
No one doubts our going, but where and when? Is 
it strange that we would leave this place, and that 



Story of a Volunteer. 145 

right speedily? It is the possibility, should we go 
north, of seeing our loved ones once more, if only for 
a brief period. Rumor says, and Dr. Bonine, Divi- 
sion Surgeon, corroborates it, the different regiments 
are going to their respective states to recruit. Who 
can blame us for cherishing the fond delusion, for such 
it will, doubtless, prove. 

Mr. Collier has just arrived from camp. He makes 
his presence doubly welcome by bringing me a letter 
from my dear wife bearing date December 30th. 
How precious to me are these favors, permitted by 
kind heaven, to keep me from despair. I do not 
become accustomed to the separation. I long more 
and more for the society of my wife and children. 

Governor Blair and Dr. Tunnicliffe are entitled to 
the gratitude of soldiers and their friends for their per- 
severing efforts in our behalf. Some Northern papers 
speak disparagingly of the high bounties offered by 
Government. What, then, is to be done? We must 
have men, and "it is beneath the dignity of freemen to 
submit to conscription." So says Governor Seymour. 
Perhaps it m.ay be cheaper to buy volunteers, even at 
one thousand dollars a head, than to enforce the Con- 
scription Act. Our currency is a m.arvel to the world. 
It will bear the strain; and then, soldiers will vote next 
fall. 

January 30th, I 864. 

There is much speculation in regard to Burnside's 
*'new expedition," as it is called. Does it look 
toward Mexico? It seems to me our Eastern sky is 
becoming overcast. It may break forth in war with 



14:6 A Soldier's Diary. 

France. It must, sooner or later, unless Napoleon 
recedes from his present position. Our forces and 
those of France are in close proximity on the Rio 
Grande, and are watching each other with jealous 
eyes. 

February 1st, 1864. 
I have not joined the regiment yet. The Doctor is 
very loth to let me go, and the patients urge me so 
hard to stay with them, it is hard to leave. Our regi- 
ment expected to start for the North tomorrow, but the 
order was countermanded today, and they have been 
notified to be ready to march, with two days' rations, 
and in light marching order. They have just passed 
through here and crossed the river to the front. 
Rumor says Wolford is in trouble again, and the Ninth 
Corps is to help him out. There has been some fight- 
ing near here for several days with Rebel cavalry. 
Prisoners are daily coming in, by fifties and by hun- 
dreds. 

February 4th, 1 864. 
Fred Byron has given up the fight and sought repose 
in the bosom of his Mother Earth. His wound was 
not considered dangerous at first, but the shock was 
too great for his delicate constitution. He pined 
away gradually, almost imperceptibly, until I could 
carry him in my arms, like a child. Poor boy; my 
heart went out to him from the first, and his counten- 
ance always brightened when I entered the room. He 
lived about six weeks and — slept. He had neither 



Story of a Volunteer. 147 

father ox mother on earth — no relatives but a brother 
and sister, both married. And so they have gone, 
the young, the brave, our country's choicest spirits. 
Death has reaped a rich harvest. 

Austin Draper is quite sick of a low form of fever. 
He is quite discouraged, poor fellow, but I do all I 
can to inspire him with hope, knowing this to be better 
than medicine. I do not know that I will be able to 
join the regiment before they go over the mountains. 
The Doctor and the men press me to stay. From 
choice, I would much rather be with the boys. Dr. 
Bevere has returned. It seems the Rebels did not 
think him worth his keep. He was with them three 
days and says they treated him well. The men are 
still on **tip-toe," momentarily expecting orders to pack 
up and be off. They say, however, like the true 
heroes they are, they are willing to stay as long as they 
are needed. 

February 6th, 1864. 

I begin to feel quite certain that **the world does 
move." The conviction is forced upon me by the fact 
that our Congress, the slowest of slow coaches, has 
actually begun to do what it should have done last 
year. Then look at Missouri, Arkansas, Louisiana, 
Texas and Tennessee. The fires of war have lighted 
up these dark places, and the people begin to see the 
hideousness of their cherished institution. Like true 
patriots they have set themselves at work to make their 
country what its vain boast has been — a land of free- 
dom. I have become more firmly convinced, every 
day, that when this war ends slavery will not exist. 



148 A Soldier's Diary. 

The States I have mentioned will be free within a 
year. 

February 7th, 1864. 

I have just returned from attending divine service at 
the Soldier Chapel, an old, shaky building, without 
fire. We are to have preaching every Sabbath and 
prayer meeting every day. The Christian Commis-- 
sion is beginning to make itself felt here. Their agent 
visits us every day, distributes tracts, papers, writing 
paper, envelopes, etc., gives good advice, sings patri- 
otic and other airs, prays with and for us, and does it 
all in such a kindly, benevolent way that he has won 
all hearts. 

Everything is quiet — even rumor is ominously silent. 
Expectation is on the rack. I would not be sur- 
prised at anything but peace and our departure for the 
North. This hospital is not yet broken up for want 
of patients — transportation cannot be procured — food 
must be first attended to. There is but one engine 
running between here and Loudon. From Chatta- 
nooga to Loudon two flatboats make one trip each per 
week, if there is sufficient water. There are over three 
thousand sick and wounded soldiers in this city. 
Stores, taverns, court houses, are all pressed into hospi- 
tal service. The original population has nearly all 
left; some have gone south, but the greater portion 
have gone north. And still they go. Every day 
"Old Joseph's" shrill voice may be heard on yonder 
corner, as he "closes out" some poor unfortnate, who 
is selling off his household goods to go to some more 
favored land. 



Story of a Volunteer. 149 

Language cannot describe nor imagination picture 
the destitution of these people. I see by the Louis- 
ville papers the people of the North are much in doubt 
of our ability to hold Knoxville in case Longstreet again 
attacks us. I am surprised at the misapprehension of 
our situation now and during the siege. The Journal 
says our numerical strength is much reduced. The 
reverse is the fact. It says we have no supplies. We 
certainly have as many now as then, with the railroad 
to Chattanooga nearly completed. Our men have 
been constantly at work strengthening and perfecting 
the fortifications. Knoxville can only be taken by 
siege, and before we could be driven to any great 
extremity, relief could, and would, reach us from 
Chattanooga. 



150 A Soldier's Diary. 



CHAPTER XXIX. 

February 10th. 1864. 
In walking up Gay Street today I discovered a new 
feature in this city of soldiers, an index of progress, of 
civilization. It was a news depot in full blast, estab- 
lished by an enterprising Yankee, of course. We at 
the hospital are well provided with reading matter by 
the Christian Commission. They have a soldiers* 
reading room, supplied with piles of Northern papers, 
periodicals, and many religious works. There is also 
a table supplied with writing materials, all free. If 
we have no stamps, these friends of the soldiers stamp 
our letters. If we are sick — unable to write — they 
offer to write for us. Adjoining the rooms of the 
Christian Commission are those of the Sanitary Com- 
mission, another beneficent association for the benefit 
of sick and wounded soldiers. All delicacies our poor 
fellows receive come through their instrumentality. 
This is the great dispensary of all those countless gifts 
in the shape of clothing and eatables which the benev- 
olent people of the North so freely bestow. The 
articles to be distributed are first turned over to the 
Surgeon in charge, he keeping enough for himself and 
assistants, then the cooks take out enough for them- 
selves and friends. The balance, should there be a 
balance, goes to the soldiers. I know the above to be 
true, from personal observation. 



Story of a Volunteer. 161 

The Christian Commission manage differently. 
Their agents give to the soldier such things as they 
may stand in need of. — 

February 11th, 1864. 

The Second Michigan leave today for Cincinnati, 
by way of Chattanooga. The sick and v^ounded of 
that regiment start tomorrow. It is thought the whole 
corps will be under way by a week from next Mon- 
day. The sick will be removed as soon after thai 
time as possible — probably by the first of March. At 
the earnest solicitation of Dr. Crosby, I have con- 
cluded to remain and go with them. He promises, 
in return, to use all his influence at Cincinnati to pro- 
cure for me a furlough, or leave of absence. Possibly 
this had an influence on my decision. I have an 
almost uncontrollable desire to visit my family and 
home this spring. It seems like I cannot be denied; I 
believe my prayer will be granted. 

No news from the front of any importance. Rebel 
cavalry are seen, now and then, in small parties, across 
the river. Fifty-three Indians were captured and 
brought in yesterday. They are a sullen, ugly look- 
ing set of cutthroats. 

The most potent reason, or excuse, for playing 
cards, and one that seems to satisfy men who are 
strictly moral, is, "it serves to pass away the time." 
To most soldiers, when not on duty, time passes heav- 
ily. It is impossible to procure reading matter. Men 
do not always feel like talking. Most men cannot sit 
down by themselves and indulge in calm reflection — 



152 A Soldier's Diary. 

they must have some excitement — consequently, for 
want of something better, they gather in knots and 
shuffle cards. My pastime is to dream of home and 
loved ones. From early morn until late at night I 
am busy — yes, doubly busy — for, w^hile I do not 
neglect my duties, my mind is hard at vv^ork far from 
this cumbrous body. Annihilating space, it leaps all 
barriers and pauses not until by my loved one's side. 

I have just been out to see a drove of beef cattle 
that are being driven to our brigade. One of them 
fell dov/n in the street but a few rods from here, and 
no amount of "encouragement" could induce him to 
rise. 

I would suggest to our Northern farmers, if any of 
their cattle are likely to starve to death, they slaughtei 
them. Their bones make excellent "soup." I speak 
advisedly, for I have tried it. The mail route, by 
way of the Gap, has been abandoned for the present. 
It goes now by way of Chattanooga. 

February 15 th, 1864. 
Through the kindness of Dr. Crosby, I was the 
recipient of a handsome present yesterday. It hap- 
pened in this wise: A certain Israelite, having not 
the fear of Uncle Sam before his eyes, smuggled in to 
this loyal city a large amount of sutler's and other 
goods. Some prying official scented him out and 
demanded to see his "papers." Alas, of papers he had 
none; in default of which six thousand dollars worth 
of goods were confiscated. Three thousand dollars 
worth were turned over to the Sanitary Commission for 



Story of a Volunteer. 153 

free distribution to the different hospitals. The cloth- 
ing was given to the hospital attendants. The Doctor 
selected a hat, vest and shirt, the articles I most needed* 
wrhen they first came in, and gave them to me. 

February 16th, 1864. 
A dear old lady acquaintance of mine used to say, 
* 'Whenever you are downhearted and disposed to 
complain, just sit right down and count your mercies." 
I have been counting my mercies today, and find I 
have many things to be thankful for. Instead of being 
half starved, I have now plenty of food, for Joseph 
Cooley, a particular friend of mine, is chief cook, and 
the Sanitary Commission furnishes "delicacies." I 
am now well dressed, for Dr. Crosby, my friend, issues 
what the Sanitary Commission furnish — good clothing. 
I have a good bed, with two white sheets, for the 
Sanitary Commission issues bedding. I am clean, for 
I wash and change clothing often, and sleep alone. 
Last, but not least, I am in good health, because God 
has bestowed upon me this priceless boon. 

February 18th, 1864. 
Time creeps along with steady pace, regardless of 
human happiness or woe. Winter has come and 
gone — the second winter since I bade farewell to fam- 
ily and friends to battle for my country, and, as I 
believe, for human liberty. How long the time 
appears; and yet, how short! When viewed in the 
light of sundered ties — of family connections, once 
pleasant and joyous, now broken — it seems an age. 



154 A Soldier's Diary. 

Oh, God, can so much misery be crowded into eighteen 
short months? It is not of physical ills I speak, but 
tortures of the mind — the heart. My only consolation 
is the abiding faith that we will meet again; and then 
how surpassingly sweet will be the reunion. If this is 
not to be our happy lot on earth, it is said to be "Sweet 
to die for one's country." I but go where duty calls, 
leaving the event with God — not heedlessly, blindly, 
but in trustful confidence. I see by the newspapers 
the Eighth Michigan regiment is in Detroit. I hope 
they may be made welcome by the good people of 
Michigan. Much has been done for the benefit of the 
soldiers, but the people will never know — they cannot 
realize — how much these soldiers have done for them 
in turning back, from their peaceful hom.es, the devas- 
tating tide of war. 

There is no news — now and then a cavalry dash, 
but nothing of importance. A steamer is now lying 
at our wharf, the first since the rebellion broke out. 
Two more are expected tomorrow. 

February 21st, 1864. 

Our brigade had general inspection and review yes- 
terday. That means move. They also drew nine 
days' rations. 

The original occupants of this hospital have all left 
on furlough except ten, and they will soon go. I am 
thankful I have had the privilege of making many a 
heart glad by a word spoken in their behalf. I am 
going to see the wounded off, then will try to get a 
furlough for myself. 



Story of a Volunteer. 165 

February 24th. 1 864. 

Another of our boys has drawn a prize, and leaves 
for home tomorrow on twenty days' furlough. A 
batch of names goes in tonight that will take all the 
wounded from my ward. There is great excitement 
here today. The enemy has disappeared from our 
front, our troops are again at Strawberry Plains. 
Where they have gone, even rumor saith not. All 
we know of him is, he has disappeared. Our Provost 
Marshal's office is literally besieged by citizens who 
want passes to their homes. 

Perhaps the Ninth Corps can be spared now. The 
general impression is they will start in two or three 
days. The Washington papers say we are to be at 
Newport News by the first of May; a little over two 
months, which will give us at least six weeks in Mich- 
igan, should we be so lucky as to get there. But 
time is precious. My mind is so fixed on going home 
— if only for a few days — I can think of little else. 



156 A Soldier's Diary. 



CHAPTER XXX. 

Knoxville, Tenn., February 25th, 1864. 

Another of my patients leaves for his home tomor- 
row morning on furlough. His name is Joseph Spald- 
ing, of our company. He was wounded and taken 
prisoner at Campbell Station, but, being unable to 
walk, was left, with about three hundred of their own 
men, when the siege was raised. He enjoyed their 
hospitality about three weeks, and was satisfied. He 
says, however, they treated him as well as they did 
their own men. Our forces are still searching for 
Longstreet, the Ninth Corps in advance, as usual. 

I learn they crossed the Holston today at Straw- 
berry Plains. How far our boys will follow I do not 
know; certainly not farther than the cars can carry 
their supplies, for they have no mule train. They 
may go as far as Morristown, then strike across by 
way of Cumberland Gap. The officers' horses, that 
were sent to Kingston some time ago on account of 
forage, are ordered back. This means change of 
locality. The fact may seem of small significance, but 
I have learned to judge of movements by what I see, 
not by what I hear. 

March 3d. 

I have been a little "off my feed'* for three or four 
days past. Not sick — only a little overworked. A 



Story of a Volunteer. 157 

patient by the name of Hooper was assigned to my 
ward on the 1 5th of last month. His disease was 
typhoid fever of a virulent type. He was "out of 
his head" and very violent. He required the constant 
attention of two strong men. I dared not leave him 
to the doubtful care of nurses, consequently for twelve 
days and nights my eyes were seldom off him, or them. 
No one — not even the Doctor — thought he could live; 
but God was pleased to spare him "yet a little longer." 
The twelfth day he slept, for the first time, and when 
he awoke, after a few hours of quiet sleep, he awoke 
to reason — but oh, so weak. His poor, worn-out 
body scarcely retained the breath of life. Carefully I 
watched each fluttering pulsation, administering stim- 
ulants as required, and by morning felt that he would 
live. All he needed now was care, and for three days 
more I watched and waited, until the Doctor pro- 
nounced him out of danger. 

Then, when I would have slept, I could not. For 

three nights I hardly slept at all, and I tried so hard. 

Yesterday I took plenty of quinine, and had a good 

night's rest last night, and awakened this morning 

much refreshed. 

March 9th, 1864. 
The beautiful weather of the past week terminated 
I in a violent storm of rain, which continued without 
interruption forty-eight hours. The roads, before in 
I good condition, are now a sea of mud, almost impas- 
: sable; consequently that thirty days' expedition, of 
I which we have heard so much, is indefinitely post- 
poned. But the sky is once more clear, and the soil 



158 A Soldier's Diary. 

here soon dries out. Perhaps, in another week, they 
may make a sftart. I have been suffering lately from 
what the Doctor calls periodical neuralgia. It comes 
on at regular intervals, and is very painful. I am 
anxious to get around again. The men are very 
kind, nurses and convalescents, but everything seems 
to go wrong. It takes two men to do my work, and 
then, of course, they do not do it as I would. It is 
much like meinsLging a school of unruly boys. It 
requires the same tact, and the gift of government 
which few possess. The Inspector complimented me 
on the neatness and general apparance of my ward. 
Our ward Surgeon told him I kept it fit for inspection 
every day. 

March 13th, 1864. 
I received a bundle of Northern papers today. 
The Tribune thinks the Rebels and their Northern 
allies will exert themselves to prolong the war until 
after the next election. I fully agree with it, and 
think it better for the cause of freedom that they do so. 
Every day the war continues is another guaranty of 
the downfall of slavery. The time is not far distant 
when every Northern man will become an Abolitionist. 
Look at the Woods, the Brookses, the New York 
Herald, the New York World and all the leading 
pro-slarery men and journals of the North. Already 
are they trying to disengage themselves from the fetid 
carcass of their dead ally. I do not know as it mat- 
ters where the final struggle takes place. It may be 
here, but I think not. Lee and his army will never 



Story of a Volunteer. 159 

forsake their native state. There they will fight, and 
there they must be met and conquered. That done, 
the rest is comparitively easy. My health is improv- 
ing. I think I might now^ take charge of my ward, 
but the Doctor will not permit it yet. 

I am overwhelmed with joy at so favorable report 
of my only son. God bless my faithful, patient, per- 
severing boy. May he be kept from deception and 
craft, his lips from guile. 

Annapolis, Md., April 6th, 1864. 
We left Knoxville, with the sick and wounded of 
the Ninth Corps, on the twenty-second day of March, 
by way of Chattanooga, and were thirteen days on 
the road. From Knoxville to Loudon we rode in 
open cars. It was quite cold and snowed all day. 
Snow fell fourteen inches deep at Chattanooga. At 
Loudon we lay all night, awaiting transportation — 
slept in the basement of a large building that had been 
used for a stable. Although without fire, we were 
quite comfortable, having plenty of blankets and warm 
clothing. Early next morning we took cars for Chat- 
tanooga, where we arrived about 8 o'clock in the 
evening. We went to the Soldiers' Home, and were 
served hot coffee, boiled ham and soft bread. About 
10 p. m. we started for Nashville, where we arrived 
at 8 o'clock the next evening. Here we were taken 
to the barracks, where we stayed until nearly noon the 
next day, and were treated to warm supper and 
breakfast. We reached Louisville early Sunday 
morning and were given comfortable quarters. Mon- 



160 A Soldier's Diary. 

day morning we crossed over to Jeffersonville and 
took cars for Cincinnati. We rode in passenger 
coaches marked "M. C. R. R." to Seymour, Ind., 
and it seemed like I was nearly home, and then to leave 
them and change direction, it cut me to the soul. At 
Seymour we were packed in "hog cars," littered with 
straw, and so closely it was difficult for all to sit down. 
We expected to stay at Cincinnati until the regiment 
came up, but were disappointed, only staying over one 
night. Some of our sick were unable to go further, and 
I was until nearly midnight getting them into a hospi- 
tal. We started early next morning and made no 
farther stops until we reached Annapolis about 10 
p. m. of April 4th. 

The next day we drew rations and tents. We got 
our tents pitched about sundown, just in time for a 
storm of rain, which soon began, and has continued 
with unabated fury until the present time. Our regi- 
ment arrived this morning, and I have rejoined my 
company. They marched over the mountains to 
Lebanon — one hundred eighty miles — in ten days. 
From Lebanon they came by rail, over the same route 
taken by us a few days before. 

I find the men very bitter toward General Wilcox. 
The report is current that he is the cause of our men 
not being paid before leaving Tennessee; that he 
feared they would buy whisky if they had the money 
— as, doubtless, they would have done. The men 
believed these reports, and were very angry, and, as a 
retaliatory measure, swore they would steal "every- 



Story of a Volunteer. 161 

thing they could lay their hands on." Most disgrace- 
fully did they keep their oath. 

We have received about one hundred recruits, 
mostly French from near Monroe. We are 
encamped on an inclined plane half a mile from the 
city. The soil is light sand. Our tents are eight 
feet square, and will accommodate four or five per- 
sons. 



162 A Soldier's Diary. 



CHAPTER XXXI. 

Annapolis, Md., April 8th. 1864. 

There have been rumors in camp ever since we 
came here, and long before, for that matter, all tend- 
ing homeward. The fond illusion is, at last, dis- 
pelled. Colonel Luce returned last night. He says 
Governor Blair and himself did all in their power to 
get the regiment home on furlough. They wrote the 
War Department, and were refused on the ground 
that we had not been out long enough to entitle us to 
one. I did not expect one from the regiment. All j 
my hope was in the hospital. Only a bare possibility ] 
now remains. How fondly I had hoped to see my | 
loved family before active operations were resumed 
was not fully realized until now. I try to bow sub- 
missively. I cannot forget that I still owe my best 
services to my country. 

I have been blest with health such as I had not 
enjoyed for years while engaged in the peaceful and, 
to me, congenial, avocations of life. Mail facilities 
are good, and I will try and catch the few rays of 
sunshine it affords. 

April 15th, 1864. 
Lieutenant Sudborough expects a short leave of 
absence, in a few days, to visit his home, and is in 

4 



Story of a Volunteer. 163 

great haste to get his business in shape. It is my 
duty, as it is my pleasure, to assist him. He has been 
very kind to me, and I feel under great obligations to 
him. He is senior officer, and has command of the 
company. Company books have not been posted 
since the first of January, for, in their marches and 
countermarches in Tennessee, they could not be car- 
ried. Accounts of clothing, camp and garrison equip- 
age, etc., were kept on slips, and must now be trans- 
ferred to the books; each man's account separately 
posted, his signature obtained and witnessed for each 
time he has drawn clothing. Then there are morning 
reports, monthly reports, invoices, inventories and 
receipts without number, with copies of each tran- 
saction. At these I have been busy, almost without 
intermission, since I rejoined my company. 

Our company numbers an aggregate of ninety-three 
men and officers — sixty-five present for duty, twenty- 
six absent on sick leave. The weather is — ^April, and 
nothing else. Lieutenant Sudborough leaves for 
Michigan tomorrow, where most of the officers now 
are. He leaves all company business in my care. 1 
I take possession of his tent in the morning. 

j April 21st. 1B64. 

j We received orders today to be ready to march at 
a minute's notice, with five days' cooked rations. I 

I was prepared for an early move, but did not expect it 
quite so soon. I know not where we are going; care 
not, only as it takes me farther from my loved ones 
and renders communication more difficult. When we 



164 A Soldier's Diary. 

go is equally uncertain. We will not take the field 
immediately, unless the most urgent necessity requires 
it. Our A tents are to be sent in advance, which 
means we encamp at some other point. There is yet 
much to be done to render the corps effective. The 
work of reorganizing has hardly begun. Brigades 
and divisions are not formed. We have no supply 
train — no artillery — no ambulance. Few recruits 
have arrived, and those that have are neither armed or 
drilled. We have had no general inspection or grand 
review. No, there is not to be a general movement 
of the whole corps at present. As I read the signs, 
this is only a change of rendezvous. 

The Eighth Michigan have struck tents and sent 
them to the depot. The second move tomorrow at 
4 a. m. 

Alexandria, Va., April 25th, 1864. 

One more weary march accomplished. I bore the 
march extremely well, considering I had been out of 
practice six months. We made the distance, forty- 
eight miles, in less than two and one-half days. The 
day was hot and sultry. The forenoon was consumed 
in getting the column in line of march. In the after- 
noon we made twelve miles. We had our winter 
clothing on hand, and many of the men had drawn or 
purchased new. All were heavily loaded, as they 
thought we might stop here a few days. But soldiers 
act from impulse, and the scenes I tried to describe on 
our march from Lebanon last spring were re-enacted. 

Our brigade was in the rear the second day, and 



Story of a Volunteer. 166 

I had an opportunity to see for myself. Before the 
second day had passed many had thrown away every- 
thing, not even keeping a change of shirts. I saw 
several poor fellows apparently in the agonies of death 
from sunstroke. 

These first marches, after a long rest, are nearly as 
fatal as a hard-fought battle. In passing through 
Washington we were reviewed by the President and 
General Bumside. 

This looks like a saving of time. Our ambulances 
are now filing past and going into camp. Our artil- 
lery is ready and awaiting us. Also a supply train. 
The Ninth Corps will soon be in working order, and, 
of course, at work. I would not have it otherwise. 
Where we are to work is not apparent. It matters 
little to old solders where. 

The impending struggle is close upon us. It will, 
doubtless, be fierce and terrible. Let us hope it will 
be short and decisive. 

Camp hear Warrenton Junction, May 1st, 1864. 

The Ninth Corps has relieved the Fifth Corps, 
which has been guarding the railroad between Alex- 
andia and Culpepper, and which now goes to the 
front. We are scattered — one regiment in a place — 
all the way from Centerville to Warrenton. Our 
work is an important one. 

All of Meade's supplies are dependant on our vigil- 
ance and energy. The Rebels, too are alive to its 
importance, and are making desperate efforts to cut off 
his supplies. Yesterday the Eighth Michigan were 



166 A Soldier's Diary. 

sent out six miles to look after a band of guerillas thai 
attacked a train. I cannot say that I am pleased 
with this arrangement. 

Come to be once more on the move, the same feel- 
ing of restlessness, the same desire to do, has taken 
possssion of me. I would "forward to Richmond" 
and continue to go forward, until the rebellion is 
crushed and I could return, in peace, to my loved 
home. The road from Alexandria to this place was 
of deep interest to me. The whole country has been 
baptized in the "martyr blood of freedom." Now, 
indeed, it is "sacred soil." We passed directly 
through the old Bull Run battlefield. Much as I had 
read of it, and often as I had heard it described by 
men who were in the fight, I find I had received very 
erroneous impressions. I had fancied the Rebel posi- 
tion to have been almost impregnable. On the con- 
trary, one can hardly conceive a fairer battle ground. 
Their advantage lay in our ignorance of the country 
and of the strength of the force opposed to us, and, 
more than all else, a lack of generalship on the Union 
side. 

Warrenton Junction, May 3d, 1864. 

We had regimental inspection yesterday. Our 
muster rolls are nearly completed and other business in 
proper shape, so we are nearly ready to take the field. 

All sick and wounded have been sent to Washing- 
ton, and we have orders to be ready to march at 7 
o'clock tomorrow morning, I am inclined to think, 
from certain indications, the railroad is to be abandoned 
and we are to join Grant's army in a determined effort 



Story of a Volunteer. 167 

to crush Lee's force, and, by so doing, crush the Con- 
federacy. 

May 4th. 
We fell in line at 8 o'clock, ready to march as soon 
as relieved, but were kept waiting until 4 p. m. We 
then marched ten miles and encamped near Rappa- 
hannock Station. It is reported here that Meade has 
crossed the Rapidan and that Lee has retired to a 
stronger position. 

May 5th. 
We left Rappahannock Station at 7 o'clock and 
crossed the Rapidan at 1 p. m. This is our "Rubi- 
con," or so I can but consider it, and Grant is our 
Caesar. Sharp cannonading could be heard in the 
distance. We kept on three miles further and stopped 
for coffee. We heard firing in our front, which grew 
fainter and fainter until at 5 o'clock it has ceased alto- 
gether. 



168 A Soldier's Diary. 



CHAPTER XXXII. 

Fredericksburg, Va., May 17th, 1864. 

On the morning of the sixth our division — the 
Third — was ordered to the front, and remained under 
arms during the forenoon. At 2 o'clock in the after- 
noon we moved farther to the left, where we found the 
enemy and engaged him. We were once more face 
to face with our old acquaintance, Longstreet. At 5 
o'clock the order was given to charge the enemy's 
works. The order was promptly obeyed, but the 
Rebels were strongly entrenched, and we could not 
dislodge them. Our loss was seven killed and thirty- 
three wounded. 

The Army of the Potomac, in these two days, has 
lost about fifteen thousand men. Grant had estab- 
lished hospitals at Fredericksburg which were fur- 
nished with everything to relieve or mitigate the suf- 
ferings of the wounded. Under ordinary circum- 
stances the provision made for removing them would 
have been ample. 

The first train of ambulances, loaded to its utmost 
capacity, started for Fredericksburg at dusk, by way 
of Kellog's Ford. About half way to the ford it 
was halted. The Rebels had cut them off; some 
other route must be found. This occupied all the 
next day. Finally an opening was found by way of 
Chancellorsville. Again were the ambulances filled 



Story of a Volunteer. 169 

with their scarcely living freight of bruised and man- 
gled humanity. But transportation for all could not 
be found. All who could walk, if only a few miles, 
were ordered to do so. Still there remained one hun- 
dred nine who could not walk. These were all from 
our brigade. What was to be done with these help- 
less men? Time is precious. The army is already 
on the move. By midnight they will be entirely 
unprotected. Mosby, with his cutthroats, is reported 
in our rear, not far away. It is now 10 o'clock. 
The surgeons and officers of the brigade hold a hurried 
consultation. Dr. Bonine, of the Second Michigan; 
Dr. Brooks, of the Fifty-first Pennsylvania, and 
Henry Baker, Hospital Steward of the Twentieth 
Michigan, volunteered to remain with them. 

The hospital attendants were then dismissed and 
sent with the train. Dr. Bonine then called for ten 
volunteers; men whom he could trust; who would not 
desert him in the hour of trial. I was one of the ten. 
Everything being arranged, the train and its escort 
moved forward and left us to our fate. There was 
no sleep for us that night. Each nurse was assigned 
a tent filled with wounded men, who required constant 
care. We expected the Rebels to appear early in 
the morning. I had but little preparation to make; 
nothing but to conceal the few greenbacks I possessed 
by sewing them under the lining of my clothing, and 
to destroy a few mementoes that I would not have fall 
into other hands. Among other things were a few 
old letters, crumpled and worn, but very precious to 
me. 



170 A Soldier's Diary. 

The morning of the eighth of May dawned bright 
and beautiful. Ten o'clock came, and with it the 
Rebels. But, thank God, they are not guerillas, but 
a regiment of Stewart's cavalry, commanded by Gen- 
eral Chambers. They file around us. A Major 
visits every tent, takes the name, regiment and descrip- 
tion of every man — an oflicer follows and administers 
an oath by which we bind ourselves to not take up 
arms for, or assist or aid, the Government of the Uni- 
ted States in its war with the Confederacy until duly 
exchanged, and we are paroled 'prisoners of war." 

We were treated with the utmost courtesy by offi- 
cers and men. In the afternoon of the same day we 
beheld with joy a train of ambulances coming in, under 
a flag of truce, to our relief. We reached Fredericks- 
burg about 10 o'clock that night. None but the 
wounded and their attendants were paroled. About 
one hundred stragglers were marched off to enjoy the 
hospitalities of a Southern prison. We are awaiting 
transportation to parole camp at Annapolis. How 
soon we go I cannot tell. I hope we may be 
exchanged soon. It annoys me exceedingly to be a 
prisoner, even within our own lines. 



May 18th, 1864. 
When we arrived at Fredericksburg and our 
wounded were cared for, we, the volunteer nurses, 
were relieved from duty. But what to do with us no 
one could decide. The general opinion among the 
officers was that our parole was worthless. 



Story of a Volunteer. 171 

I decided at once to report to my regiment, where 1 
felt sure of getting advice. Accordingly eight of us 
started at 7 o'clock in the morning and reached Divi- 
sion Hospital — fourteen miles — at noon. Dr. Bevere 
was there, and expressed great pleasure at seeing us. 
I told him my situation and intention to rejoin my regi- 
ment. He requested me to remain while he made 
inquiries. A consultation was held by the surgeons, 
and not knowing what to do with us, they concluded 
to send us to Washington with a train of wounded 
about to start. While they were taking our names. 
General Burnside appeared. The perplexing ques- 
tion was at once referred to him. His decision was 
prompt and unequivocal: "Their parole is good and 
must be respected. Send every man back to Fred- 
ericksburg." At 5 p. m. we were making our way, 
through rain and mud, back to the rear. The next 
day about twenty of us reported to the Provost Mar- 
shal for transportation to Annapolis. Transportation 
was out of the question at present, but we were 
assigned to very comfortable quarters. 

All went smoothly for us for a day or two, and we 
hardly knew that we were prisoners. Soon a change 
came over our keepers. The day before yesterday 
— May 16th — we were summoned to appear before 
the Provost Marshal. He told the men — I was 
absent at the time — that our parole was not legal; 
there was much duty to be done, and we must help 
to do it; that guns would be furnished us, and we 
would be required to do guard duty; that every man 
who refused would be placed under guard on short 



172 A Soldier's Diary. 

rations, which meant hardtack and water. They 
were then sent to their quarters until guns could be 
procured. When I returned our quiet camp was like 
a nest of hornets recently stirred up. 

In about an hour we were ordered to fall in. No 
determination had been expressed, and I was fearful 
most of the men would submit. Just before reaching 
the office we were halted and ordered to "rest." 
William Anderson, of my company, asked me what I 
was going to do. My answer was, "I will not take a 
gun, let the consequences be what they may." That 
was the decision of every man, and, when the Captaiii 
returned, he found us in open mutiny. He raved and 
swore; threatened us with all sorts of punishments; 
but, finding us unterrified, changed his tactics and 
tried persuasion, with the same results. Threats and 
persuasions proving futile, he sent us to our quarters. 

We occupy a comfortable brick building, draw 
plenty of rations, have a good cook and expect soon 
to be sent to a parole camp, from where I will make 
a persistent effort to get home. Now that I can be 
of no service here, it seems to m.e I cannot be denied. 

Hanover Court House, Va., May 25th, 1864. 

I left Fredericksburg on Sunday to rejoin my regi- 
ment in order to get my parole papers, as I can do 
nothing without them. We are now within twenty- 
six miles of Richmond, and very much nearer to Lee's 
army, which I consider vastly more important. 

I find that during my absence Grant and Lee have 
"locked horns" nearly every day, with no decided 



Story of a Volunteer. 173 

advantage on either side. Grant is now crossing the 
North Anna with the hope of finding a more vulner- 
able point. I find the Seventeenth taken from the 
brigade and doing provost duty at Wilcox's head- 
quarters. They were nearly annihilated at Spottsyl- 
vania on the 12th inst., and muster but 125 men. I 
am not doing any duty. The position in which I 
find myself is annoying, but I bear it patiently as possi- 
ble, firmly believing I did my duty. I do not seem 
to have lost friends in the regiment — rather the reverse. 
I still expect to get home before a great while. 



174 A Soldier's Diary. 



CHAPTER XXXIII. 

June 5th. 1864. 

I received two letters from home yesterday. 
Although nearly a month has passed since they lefl 
the hand of my loved one, the joy and comfort they 
bestow^ is inexpressible. Oh, my darling, how my 
heart has been tortured by the long delay. 

The siege of Richmond has actually begun. We 
are only eight miles from the city, and I can plainly 
hear the booming of heavy siege guns. There has 
been heavy fighting the last three days, all resulting in 
our favor. I have been where I could hear and see 
much of it. Dr. Bonine, who has our parole papers, 
is surgeon in charge of Division Hospital. He is very 
busy during these days of continual fighting, and can- 
not attend to us. So we must wait until this cam- 
paign is over. I have liberty to go where I choose 
within our lines. I saw Mortimer Crawford yester- 
day. He said he had been through all the late bat- 
tles and escaped unhurt. Jerome Beardsley was killed 
in the first day's fight in the Wilderness. Lieutenant 
Gould was also killed. 

White House. Va., June 8th. 1864. 
I am constantly on the move, seldom sleeping two 
nights in one place. I came here by request to pro- 
cure supplies for our field hospital. The paroled men 
are all at the hospital, by order of General Burnside. 



Story of a Volunteer. 175 

until some provision can be made for them. Most of 
them are doing nothing, but I cannot remain in sight 
of so much suffering and do nothing to alleviate it, 
especially when help cannot be procured. I am not 
— vv^ill not — be detailed, and, by so doing, take a sol- 
dier's place. On the contrary, v^hat I do is so much 
that vsrould not be done did I not do it, and I would 
do the same for friend or foe. God knows there is 
little enough done now, and I think He would hold 
me guiltless could I do an hundred times as much. 

Dr. Bonine gives me full authority to do as i 
think best, asking nothing, and sanctioning all I do. 
Constant exertions, under unfavorable conditions, 
begin to tell on our brave men. 

There are now more sick than wounded coming in, 
or, rather, passing through, this hospital, for they are 
sent away as fast as transportation can be procured. 
How sad and sickening the thought that the ceaseless 
tide of buoyant manhood that has been surging along 
in seemingly resistless force, as steadily returns, a 
crimson flood that threatens to deluge every hearthstone 
in our land with tears and blood. But the more 
fierce the storm, the sooner past. Our soldiers are 
firm in the belief that this is to be the closing struggle, 
and fight with a determination seldom equaled, never 
excelled. 

Petersburg, Va., June 22d, 1864. 

It is nearly two months since I heard from my loved 
ones. I cannot express my anxiety; words are too 
feeble. 

The fighting continues around Petersburg. It has 



176 A Soldier's Diary. 

raged, without intermission, since the 1 5th inst., night 
and day. All their works have been carried by storm 
except their last, or inner, works, which seem to be 
impregnable. 

In the different engagements around this place our 
— the Third — Division has lost in killed and wounded 
1 ,500 men. I cannot describe — would not if I could 
— the scenes I have witnessed and passed through 
during the past six weeks. The sights of woe are 
enough to appal the stoutest heart. I have worked 
day and night since we arrived here, and cannot see 
that I have done anything, so much still remains to be 
done. Fast as possible the wounded are sent to City 
Point, and thence to Washington, to make room for 
fresh victims. City Point is about eight miles from 
here. Every possible comfort is there provided. 
Mrs. Brainard, Mrs. Wheelock and several other 
Michigan ladies are there, freely distributing to sol- 
diers the people's gifts. I have written my friends if 
they have anything to give the private soldier, to do 
it through the Christian Commission or Michigan Sol- 
diers' Relief Society. Tomorrow I go to City Point 
in charge of a train of sick; I will probably remain 
there for the present; at least, that is now my intention. 
My object is that I may the sooner hear from my 
loved wife, for this suspense is torture. My position, 
is a peculiar one. I am left to take care of myself as 
best I can; am reported on company books as 
"Absent, prisoner of war;" can draw neither pay or 
clothing. For myself I care not, but the thought that 
my family may suffer — is suffering — is maddening. 



..ii 



Stoiy of a Volunteer. 177 

City Point, June 6th, 1 864. 

The day before yesterday I came from the front 
with a train of sick and wounded, two hundred in 
number, all from the Third Division. Were I to say 
the weather is excessively hot, my words would con- 
vey but a faint idea of the terrible, burning, consum- 
ing heat to which we have been subjected the last three 
days. Surely the "sky is brass, the sun a ball of fire." 
I think of the hottest days, in harvest time, away 
north, in Michigan, and oh, how cool, compared with 
these. Sunstroke is an every-day occurrence, so com- 
mon as to not excite remark. Typhoid fever prevails 
to an alarming extent; of the two hundred men from 
our division, one hundred five were sick, and over half 
of these were typhoid cases. Help to care for them 
is very scarce. Details have been made from the 
regiment and still more help is needed. I am giving 
my attention mostly to the sick. It may seem strange 
to an outsider, but there is a distinction made between 
wounded and sick men that is not only unjust, but 
cruel. A sick man gets little sympathy, and less of 
care, during an active campaign. The wounded ^ 

must be cared for first, no matter how slight the 
wound, in one case, or how dangerous the illness in 
the other. All will be cared for here. 

Dr. Bonine has given me charge of three wards, 
containing about one hundred patients, mostly sick. 
Mail comes regularly every day, and I shall count the 
minutes until I hear from home. 



178 A Soldier's Diary. 

July 2d, 1864. 

No tidings yet from home. Everything is going 
favorably with me. Good health, a good position, 
numerous friends, abundant opportunity to do good, 
and will to do it, and yet I am very miserable. How 
can I endure this agonizing suspense? Were it not 
for the hope of hearing from my loved ones in three 
or four days, at farthest, I should, indeed, despair. 
There lies the secret: "Were it not for hope," which 
keeps the heart from breaking in its sorrow. _ 

I am requested to go to Washington with a boat 
load of wounded — must go immediately. 

July 3d. 1864. 
We are within three miles of Washington. Have 
two hundred patients on board, all of the class called 
"bad cases." The vessel is not a hospital boat, only 
a river transport. The men lie on hay on the floor — 
some without so much as a blanket under them. 
They, too, live on hope, and expect all their wants 
will be provided for in Washington. We have not 
half the needed help. I dressed wounds until 1 
o'clock this morning — but am more than repaid by 
the expressions of gratitude by my patients. 

City Point, July 9th, 1 864. 

What strange beings we mortals are — swayed to 

and fro by each passing emotion. At last I have 

received a letter from home, dated June 21st. It 

found me wallowing in the dark pool of despondency. 



Story of a Volunteer. 179 

I could not write — often did I make the effort and 
failed — could only conjure up images of evil. The 
only consolation I found was in ministering to the 
needs of others, and in this ! found constant employ. 
All this a few cheering words from my darling has 
power to change, Hope, confidence and trust revive. 
The newspapers bring us, today, news strange and 
startling. The Alabama destroyed! Sherman de- 
feated, gold a "Rebel raid" in Maryland! Great 
excitement in Washington, etc. 



180 A Soldier's Diary. 



CHAPTER XXXIV. 

City Point. July 11 th, 1864. 

Two days have passed since I made the last entry 
in this journal, an unusual occurrence of late. The 
reason is, I have changed my employment, and my 
time has been occupied in learning the details of my 
new business. I am now with the Christian Commis- 
sion. All the sick and wounded, except forty con- 
valescents, have been removed from my ward. 

I accompanied the last detachment to Alexandria. 
There are now here about one hundred delegates to 
the Christian Commission. Mr. Collier has been cook- 
ing for them since the hospital was established at this 
place. In his department all went smoothly, he being 
a good cook and a man of energy. Not so in the 
dining room. There, three wild young soldiers and 
two "colored people" rioted uncontrolled. The table 
was never set in time, and seldom washed. Spreads 
are not in use. Dishes, knives and forks are not pro- 
perly cleaned; in fact, disorder reigns. A head was 
wanted; Mr. Collier naturally thought of his old tent 
mate and friend; he recommended me to the agent as 
"reliable;" agent desired an interview; it was granted; 
he looked me over, talked with me, "sized me up," 
and here I am, running an eating house, with full 
powers to have my own way in everything. What 



Story of a Volunteer. 181 

will my little wife think — for I can call her little iu 
comparison, as I weigh 190 pounds — at this strange 
business for such as me? I can only judge of my suc- 
cess by what I hear, for I have had no previous experi- 
ence. Delegates mark the change with evident pleas- 
ure. The agent, an aristocratic member from New 
York City, compliments me on the change I have 
wrought. Today he expressed himself as "very 
pleased" with my arrangements. 

"Act well your part," is my adopted motto. 1 
have already formed some agreeable acquaintances 
with delegates — have often been mistaken for one, 
myself. I am not ashamed to correct the mistake and 
acknowledge myself a private soldier. In a sense I 
am one of them, for I have worked in the same cause, 
the last two years, with all the strength that God has 
given m.e, and done a soldier's duty, too. 

July 13th, 1864. 

Another fond letter from my loving wife. Thank 
God, the way is once more opened. With all the 
trembling anxiety of her tender, loving heart apparent 
in every word, she asks, "What will become of you?" 

Can you not see, my darling, that He who cares 
for sparrows has not overlooked your husband? She 
asks me next if I think I am treated fairly. To this 1 
must reply, no, not quite fairly; not quite honorably. 
At the beginning of the spring campaign it was decided 
by the proper authorities that paroles, given on the 
field of battle, would not be recognized. This was 
the general rule that was adopted. As a general rule 



182 A Soldier's Diary. 

it was a good one, but there must be exceptions to alt 
general rules. And General Burnside was quick to 
see our case was exceptional. If, then, as he decided, 
"under the circumstances their parole is good and 
must be respected," I do not think it fair or honor- 
able to place us in circumstances that render it impos- 
sible to comply with the conditions specified in our 
parole. Some of the men have become worn out and 
discouraged by the treatment they have received, and 
have returned to the ranks. Through the kindness 
of my officers I am permitted to "run at large" inside 
the lines, and do the best I can for myself. I did 
expect to be allowed to go hom.e, as, at least, I have a 
moral right to do. I still think I may, should this 
campaign ever close, as it must eventually. 

City Point, July 21st, 1864. 
I have been sick with some form of fever for a few 
days past — just how many days, I have actually for- 
gotten. I did not go to the hospital — Mr. Williams 
would not consent to that — as I could have good 
medical treatment and better care where I am. Yes- 
terday I began to mend; today am feeling quite well, 
only rather weak. While I was sick the boys had 
things their own way, and a fearful way it was — 
nearly as bad as at first. Today I am sitting, or lying, 
where I can see the work is properly done and things 
"put to rights." I saw Colonel Luce today. He 
tells m.e we — the Seventeenth — are going home iu 
August to recruit, under the President's last call. 
Good news, if true, but it fails to call up any enthu- 



Story of a Volunteer. 183 

siasm on my part. "A burned child dreads the fire.** 
Possibly it may be true. The regiment has done no 
field duty since Spottsylvania, and has been changed 
to Engineers and Mechanics; besides, it is General 
Wilcox's pet regiment. I am trying hard to make 
myself believe it. I do, almost. Soon as 1 am 
strong enough, I am promised a horseback ride to the 
regiment. There, if the above report is not generally 
believed, I will try and get a furlough. We have 
had one rainy day, and the weather is delightfully 
cool. 

July 26th, 1864. 

It has been unusually quiet at the front the past 
week. It is the calm that precedes the storm. That 
storm will, doubtless, be a fearful one; the very earth 
will shake in terror when all Grant*s artillery opens up 
in concert. The signal is to be the springing of a 
mine or mines. All able-bodied soldiers, doing duty 
in hospitals, leave for the front today, their places 
being taken by musicians. Every man will be needed 
in the coming onslaught. 

It is nearly supper time» and I, who never gave a 
thought to such matters in all my previous life, must 
go and see that the table is properly spread. 

July 28th, 1864. 
I expect to visit the regiment some day this week. 
My friend, Mr. May, has promised to accompany me, 
and I anticipate much pleasure. I am told Genera! 
Wilcox has been made a Major General, and is to 
take command of the Department of Ohio, headquar- 
ters at Cincinnati. 



184 A Soldier's Diary. 

We expect a detachment of "invalids" from Wash- 
ington to do hospital duty. Soldiers call them "con- 
demned Yankees." All detailed m.en are ordered to 
the front; they are packing up, getting ready to move 
tomorrow morning. Invalids and musicians are to 
man the hospitals, by order of Lieutenant General 
Grant. I pity the poor, unfortunate patients; boys 
make but poor nurses, and musicians are mostly boys. 

July 30th, 1864. 

I hear tremendous explosions and repeated volleys 
of musketry in the direction of the Ninth Corps today. 
Can it be that Burnside's mine has been exploded and 
that our forces now occupy Petersburg? 

I see by the papers Secretary Chase has resigned. 
Mr. Chase is a politician, and is ambitious; he has 
worked three years, with all his mighty intellect, for 
the Presidency. In this he failed; he withdraws from 
the Cabinet to further his own schemes. I may judge 
him harshly, but I can not forget Fremont. 

Can it be really true that my countrymen are 
despondent at the prospect of another "call" for men? 
Would they enjoy all the benefits to be derived from 
this v/ar and share none of its perils? Are their lives 
too precious to be put in jeopardy? Have they 
become so degenerate as to make Mammon their idol? 

Another appalling blunder has been perpetrated. 
Part of the Rebel works were blown up yesterday, 
and an assault was m.ade by the Ninth Corps, which 
resulted in failure. Their works were carried, but, 
for v/ant of support, could not be maintained. 



Story of a Volunteer. 185 



CHAPTER XXXV. 

City Point. Va., August 5th. 1864. 

I see by the newspapers there is great excite- 
ment in the North over the rumor that the Rebels are 
about to attack Washington with an army of seventy- 
five thousand; also a conspiracy, embracing a half mil- 
lion men, is already organized in the North; and, 
worse than all else, the loyal people of the North are 
"disheartened;" to all of which I reply, "May God 
speed the right." 

The Seventeenth was not in the fight last Saturday. 
I hear that General Meade is held responsible for last 
Saturday's failure, and is to be superseded by General 
Hooker; that he — Meade — thought it a favorable 
opportunity to "crush" a rival instead of the rebellion. 

It seems the people at home think Grant's position 
here a critical one. It is well to look matters squarely 
in the face; to know the worst, and prepare to meet 
it. I believe Grant's position here to be impregnable. 
The Richmond papers say: "He has involved him- 
self in a labyrinth of fortifications from which it would 
be almost impossible to extricate himself if undis- 
turbed." 

Certainly, then, they cannot drive him out. Then, 
his base of supplies is as nearly safe as it is possible to 
make it, his communication being by water and under 



186 A Soldier's Diary. 

the protection of gunboats. But, can he take Peters- 
burg with his present force? No, not by direct 
assault, and I think the "golden opportunity" to exhibit 
his "genius for strategy" passed with last Saturday's 
failure. Lee will now be more than ever on the alert. 
Flank movements are also "played out," and the idea 
of "sieging" has become ridiculous. What, then is to 
be done? Simply to hold his ov/n until re-enforced 
by the new levy. This he can do and spare part of 
his forces to operate in other places, if necessary. 
But, while we are waiting, the opposing forces are not 
idle. No ant hill was ever more busy than they. 
Marching and countermarching, mining and counter- 
mining. This week General Wilcox discovered the 
Rebels were mining one of his forts. 

The next night the guns were all removed and logs 
were put in their places. Another fort was built at 
a safe distance in the rear, and the old one was aban- 
doned, without exciting suspicion. When they are 
ready, they will spring the trap they have so skillfully 
set for themselves. 

August 7th, 1864. 

It is the Sabbath, and is so strangely quiet I am 
strongly reminded of home, where I have spent so 
many happy Sabbaths, in years gone by. With the 
army there is no Sabbath. Each day is like the pre- 
ceding one, except on Sunday there is a little more 
cleaning of brasses, brightening of arms, polishing of 
equipments, etc., than during the week. Here, at the 
Commission, the Sabbath is observed as a day of rest; 
a day of worship. We have divine service at 10 



Story of a Volunteer. 187 

a. m. and at 2 p. m., in the chapel, a tent large 
enough to seat one hundred persons. Besides this, 
the colored people hold prayer meetings in the after- 
noon and evening. I love to attend these meetings. 
The simple, earnest piety of these poor unfortunates 
is truly affecting. There is a large camp of them 
just outside the hospital grounds, who came in with 
Wilson, from the southwest of Petersburg, when he 
returned from his "great raid." 

The Rebels have blown up the "decoy" fort left 
them by Wilcox. They tried the experiment night 
before last — the 5 th inst. A little after sundown a 
huge pile of dirt, with sixteen "Quaker guns," and 
other rubbish, was lifted high in air. The smoke had 
not cleared away ere the Rebels charged, with yells 
demoniac, across an open field. Our artillery was 
massed a little in the rear, and to the right and left 
of the exploded mine, loaded to the muzzle with grape 
and canister, ready to welcome them to the feast of 
death. They were allowed to approach to within 
short musket range before a shot was fired. Suddenly 
they were met by a storm of iron hail that swept their 
ranks as with the "besom of destruction." Mortals 
could not endure it. At the first discharge they 
wavered; the third sent them to cover. Our loss, 
none; the Rebels, "much greater." 

The quiet calmness of this Sabbath eve invites retro- 
spection. Almost two years have passed since I 
enlisted to serve my country — two years where days 
have lengthened into weeks, weeks into months, 
months to an endless period of time. Two years of 



188 A Soldier's Diary. 

toil, compared with which all former labors have been 
pastime. Two years of suffering and exposure, 
burned by the consuming rays of a torrid sun, where 
thirst and hunger have striven for mastery. Worse 
than all this, yes, infinitely harder to be borne, two 
years of separation from my loved ones. Another 
year remains. Oh, may it quickly pass! During all 
this time my hope has never wholly failed. I never, 
even for one moment doubted that I would see their 
dear faces again ; that the object for which I have sacri- 
ficed so much will be accomplished; that this Nation 
will, in due time, emerge from the darkness which now 
envelops it, "purified as by fire.** 

City Point, August 9th, 1 864. 
A fearful tragedy was enacted here today. A 
barge, laden with ammunition, was blown to atoms, 
scattering death and destruction around. How it 
happened will forever remain a mystery, as not one 
that was on board lives to tell the tale. Near as can 
be ascertained at this time, about two hundred were 
killed and wounded. A vast amount of property 
was destroyed. Blocks of timber, shells, grape shot 
and other missiles were thrown over a mile. We are 
situated about a mile and a half from the landing. I 
was on m.y way to the Point; had covered, perhaps, 
one-half the distance. As I looked toward the land- 
ing I saw a lady, mounted on a white horse that 
belonged to the Commission, ride up the bank from 
the river and turn in the direction of Grant's head- 
quarters. I recognized her as a member of the Mich- 



Story of a Volunteer. 189 

igan Relief Society. The horse was a spirited one, 
and I could but admire the ease and grace with which 
she restrained him and compelled him to do her bid- 
ding. He tossed his beautiful head and spurned the 
ground beneath his feet as he lightly galloped over the 
plain. 

They had reached a point perhaps half a mile from 
the landing, when a violent concussion rent the air. 
From the landing fire, smoke and innumerable mis- 
siles were being hurled upward, in a whirling eddy, 
as from the mouth of a volcano. Heavy timbers and 
other debris flew over and around me. I looked for 
the lady on horseback. For an instant I could see 
nothing in that direction but a swirling cloud of dust; 
in another instant I saw, through the dispersing gloom, 
a white horse clearing the ground with rapid strides, 
and on his back, cool and erect, a lady. 

I was afterward informed the lady was Mrs. 
Wheelock, of Jackson, Michigan, a m.ember of the 
Michigan Relief Society. 



190 A Soldier's Diary. 



CHAPTER XXXVI. 

City Point, Va., August 12th. 1864. 

Today is the second anniversary of my enlistment. 
I have been trying to look backward and compare 
the present w^ith the past. I find the task a difficult 
one. The past two years appear like a dark chasm, 
into which the most startling events have been com- 
pressed; during this time the present has absorbed my 
attention ; its hopes and fears ; its prospects and bearings 
on the future. What a striking resemblance the past 
bears to the present. Then, as now, the war was 
nearly ended. Then, as now, the Rebels were on 
"short rations," and would soon be "starved out;** 
then, as now, a blow was about to be struck that 
"would break the back of the rebellion." Six hundred 
thousand men were needed to "close up the rebellion." 
"One short campaign would end the rebellion." To- 
day five hundred thousand men are needed for the 
same purpose. We are whistling that same old tune 
today, with as much gusto, and for the same pur- 
pose — "to keep our courage up." 

Should this nation act as foolish as our editors and 
politicians talk, we will be the "laughing stock" of 
the world. In view of the past, humility would be 
more becoming than arrogance. I do not believe this 
Nation will be dissevered and a slave oligarchy built 



Story of a Volunteer. 191 

upon the ruins of Liberty. I do not believe that a 
people, with almost unlimited resources, and that can 
muster three millions of men to fight its battles, will 
ever succumb to treason. Much as I love peace and 
hate, even to loathing, everything that pertains to war, 
never would I give up the struggle. At first, before 
the war began, I was in favor of a convention of the 
people to decide the vexed question of secession, and, 
if the people of the South desired it, I was ready to 
bid them go in peace, and enjoy, to the full, their sin 
and shame. 

As much has been said of Grant's genius for 
strategy, and the skill and secrecy with which he exe- 
cutes his movements, I will record a specimen. The 
night before last, at dusk, the Christian Commission 
was notified that six hundred sick from the Second 
Corps would soon arrive. In the morning the entire 
corps made its apearance at the Point. A fleet of 
transports was in waiting to take them somewhere. It 
was night before all had embarked, and during the 
day many officers and men came here for food. 

All said they were going to catch Early. At dusk 
they steamed down the river a few miles, and 
anchored until the moon went down. Then they 
turned around and steamed up the river to Drury's 
Bluff, where, at daylight, the sharp report of their 
rifles could be heard. 

August 1 7th, 1 864. 
Lieutenant Sudborough has received a captain's 
commission, and commands the regiment. Rath is in 



192 A Soldier's Diary. 

Michigan, recruiting. It is very sickly here; mostly 
confined to new regiments and recruits. Very little 
sickness among the veterans. 

The Christian delegation is very lov^; less than half 
as many as three months ago. Many become scared 
the first week and leave for their homes. Dehcate- 
looking ladies endure the heat, fatigue and malaria 
much better than the men. 

August 20th. 1864. 

I have visited the regiment, as I intended. I found 
them all well except Colonel Luce. He is suffering 
from injuries received at Spottsylvania and from fever. 
Preparations are being made to send him home. I 
had but little time to visit v/ith the boys, as they moved 
that night. When I returned this morning I found 
great changes had taken place in the hospital. First, 
a new Surgeon is in charge, and, of course, new regu- 
lations. All the old incumbents have been removed 
and an entire new set installed. An order has been 
issued by General Meade forbidding any enlisted man 
helping in any of the hospitals or commissions, which 
throws me out of a job. As things are not to my 
liking here, I will report at once to the field hospital. 

Field Hospital, August 23d, 1864. 
I left City Point about 5 p. m. of the 21st inst., and 
arrived here at 8 o'clock. It began to rain before we 
were out of sight of the hospital, and kept it up until 
morning. A little soaking, now and then, is more 
agreeable than otherwise, this hot weather, but not so 
the mud. Sacred soil is very adhesive. 



Story of a Volunteer. 193 

Yesterday I went to the Point for a load of ice. 
The roads were so soft we were compelled to walk 
back. Darkness and a heavy rainstorm met us half 
way. To add to our enjoyment, we lost our way, 
and wandered around in mud and darkness until 
nearly midnight, expecting each moment to be picked 
up by our pickets. That gratification was denied us, 
and we were forced to furnish our own lodging. 
"All is well that ends well." None of us are any 
the worse for our misadventure. We are to move our 
hospital this afternoon eight miles to the left, to near 
the Weldon Railroad. A great battle has been fought 
there and victory won. Many prisoners have been 
taken and many lost. This same railroad was once 
taken by the Sixth Corps, and afterward abandoned 
General Grant is very active, "butting," now here, 
now there. At every move the Rebels get the worst 
of it. 

August 25th, 1864. 
We have sent away all our sick and wounded, and 
expect to follow in the morning. I do not like the 
idea of getting so far from our base, as it is likely to 
interfere with our rations. However, we will prob- 
ably not remain very long. With field hospitals, 
change is the order; here today, there tomorrow. We 
have no patients; nothing to keep my mind from real- 
izing its utter loneliness. At such times my heart 
reaches out to my family with unutterable longing. 
But, be still, fond heart. Two years of banishment 
are past, but one remains. God is good, and kind. 



194 A Soldier's Diary. 

and merciful. Let me gather consolation from the 
past, and look with confidence and hope into the 
future. 

I have said that I am lonely. I would be much 
more so were it not for the comradeship of my friend, 
Mr. Collier. We take long walks together, talking 
over old times and future plans until we get to some 
high point everlooking Petersburg and its fortifications. 
We then sit down for an hour or two and enjoy the 
cool evening breeze, and witness the grandest pyro- 
technic display the mind can conceive of. I saw 
William Dunham today; he has been promoted to ser- 
geant. There is no better or braver soldier in the 
Seventeenth Regiment than he. 

City Point, August 31st, 1864. 

I left the front at noon today, partly for a load of 
ice for the hospital, mainly to get my mail, if any had 
arrived, which I did not doubt. As to the first, 1 
was successful, and hope to be with the latter tomor- 
row. It hardly seems the same place, so great have 
been the changes in two weeks. Nearly all the dele- 
gates have gone home. Men free to act — to come 
and go as they please — will not long endure the perils 
of this climate. 

While the people at home are watching with eager 
eyes the progress of these armies, we, the members of 
these armies, are equally intent with the progress of 
events now transpiring in the North. The draft — the 
Chicago convention — the great conspiracy — all are 
subjects in which v/e take the deepest interest. 



Story of a Volunteer. 195 

After all, I see more ground for hope than cause for 
fear in the immediate future. I do not believe the 
draft will be resisted to any extent. The conspiracy is 
rendered harmless by its publicity. The only fear I 
hear expressed is that the leaders may not be suffi- 
ciently punished. If the Administration is afraid to 
assume the responsibility at this critical period, let 
those leaders be persuaded to visit the army. I am 
quite sure they would be convinced it is poor policy 
to buy ammunition for traitors. 

When I contemplate the present condition of the 
country, I am bewildered by the fearful magnitude of 
events now hurrying to completion. 

Camp near Petersburg, September 6th, 1864. 
Our hospital is now pleasantly situated about three 
miles from the old ground and two miles from division 
headquarters. The grounds are laid out in the form 
of a shield, which is the badge of the Ninth Corps. 
Evergreen trees are planted around it, in double rows. 
Arches wound with twigs of evergreen; in fact, every- 
thing is arranged with taste, and at great expenditure 
of labor. Tents were nearly all pitched when I 
arrived with the last load. About sundown a divi- 
sion of the Second Corps marched past, and formed in 
line but a few rods distant. In a few minutes they 
were engaged in throwing up breastworks. I had 
received that truant letter of August 20th, which had 
miscarried, and had lighted a candle with a view to 
answer it, when the order came, "Pack up, boys, and 
get ready to move immediately." In an hour tents 



196 A Soldier's Diary. 

were struck and loaded, the sick put in ambulances 
and the train in line, with orders to "move out a mile 
and await orders." 

This awaiting orders is never very agreeable, and a 
heavy thunderstorm did not add greatly to our enjoy- 
ment on this occasion. Seeing no prospect of an early 
move, my comrade and I lay dowoi upon the ground, 
with a rubber under us, and a rubber over us, and 
"sweetly slept till break o' day." Soon as fairly 
light the train moved on, and at 8 o'clock we were in 
our old camp again, still to await orders. It is now 
9 p. m., and we are in the same "blissful state of 
glorious uncertainty." The sick remain in the ambu- 
lances. A railroad is being laid to connect City Point 
with the Weldon Road. It passes within a few rods 
of us. Nearly a mile of track is laid each day. 






Story of a Volunteer. 107 



CHAPTER XXXVII. 

September 5th, 1864. 

Early next morning we resumed our march, and 
continued it until within a half mile of the place we 
vacated yesterday with so little ceremony. Here we set 
to work as though it had all been "part of the original 
plan," and tonight have our hospital in good working 
order. This time there is no style. Judging by con- 
traries, we will remain here for some time. 

We did not leave the old ground a minute too soon. 
That very day the Rebels, in trying to shell the rail- 
road, shelled our old camp. A half mile beyond was 
General Meade's headquarters. They made it so hot 
he was compelled to get out in a hurry. 

The Chicago convention has met and done exactly 
what everyone here expected it to do — nominated Mc- 
Clellan for the Presidency. My feelings for him are 
mixed — pity and contempt — pitj'^ that the once 
mighty McClellan should fall so low; contempt that he 
allow ambition to ruin him. Henceforth "Little 
Mac" is powerless. Whether he accept or reject, 
there is no more magic in his name. Poor old dog 
Tray, your experience was identical with that of Mc- 
Clellan. On the other hand, "Old Abe's" prospects 
are brightening. Sherman is successful in "stumping" 
Georgia. His "speech" at Atlanta is working won- 



198 A Soldier's Diary. 

ders here. Even Rebels are affected by it, and many 
have already "come over and joined our side." 

Some of our men are disposed to speak bitterly of 
the manner in which "volunteers are raised" in the 
North. I consider it magnanimous, in those patriotic 
men who are exposed to the draft, to allow the wives 
and widows of soldiers to contribute their mite toward 
buying substitutes. And there is some compensation 
in this. We want men who will fight. Most for- 
eigners will do that; so will negroes. Copperheads 
will not; at least on our side. This money, with that 
wrung from the wives and widows of soldiers, will 
buy foreigners and negroes ; and so we get the men. 

Camp Near Petersburg, Va., 

September 9th, 1864. 
I wish my Northern friends could look in and see 
my new house, this morning. My comrade and 1 
worked all day yesterday, trying to make it comfort- 
able. But first let m.e introduce my comrade, Mr. 
Charles Blanchard, son of Judge Blanchard, of 
Tecumseh, Michigan. He is a young man of good 
manners and pleasing address, is intelligent, 
and a very agreeable compajiion. Everybody 
calls him Charley. Like myself, he is a paroled 
prisoner. Now for the house. To begin, we went 
to the woods and cut four armfuls of poles, which 
was our building material; then leveled off the ground, 
ditching around a piece eight feet by twelve. This 
for our building and front yard. Next in order was 
the bedstead. Four stakes were driven into the 



Story of a Volunteer. 199 

ground, four feet by six feet apart, with a pole across 
each end. Across these, small poles v/ere fitted, close 
together, for our spring mattress. On top of these, a 
thick coating of pine boughs, in lieu of feathers; on top 
of all, our rubbers and blankets are spread, and our 
bed is made. A soft, voluptuous bed it is. We 
then set two poles in the center of each end, to support 
a ridge pole. Over this pole is thrown our canvas, 
which is stretched to cover six by eight feet, the lower 
ends two feet from the ground for ventilation. To 
the ends we affix other pieces of tent, when behold, 
the bed is made and the house enclosed. 

All that is lacking now is a floor, table and pantry. 
Lumber is scarce; sawmills there are none. 
After dinner, away we go, on a voyage of discovery. 
About a mile from camp we run across a deserted 
encampment, where we find plenty of lumber. Two 
trips suffices. We now have lumber, but no nails. 
Leaving Charlie to saw the boards to the proper length 
(with a hatchet), I start off in another direction after 
hardware. About a mile and a half from camp I 
find where some quartermaster's cook has made fire- 
wood of hardtack and other boxes. In the ashes 1 
find plenty of nails. Our task is now easy and soon 
completed, and we have as nice, comfortable house a? 
soldiers can ask for in this climate. 

I am gaining in health and strength every day. 
May and June, or the work I did in those two 
months, nearly used me up. I have placed Baby 
Nell's picture in my diary, beside that of my wrife, 
and never open it without first looking at them. Of 



200 A Soldier's Diary. 

one thing I am quite certain; we are on the best of 
terms, are baby and I. At first she was a little shy, 
or so I fancied, and frowned on me, as babies do on 
strangers. But now she smiles every time I take her 
— and so do I. If I do not come home until my 
three years of service expires, she will be eighteen 
months old, and I do love little babies so very dearly. 

Camp near Petersburg, Va., 

September 10th, 1864. 
Charlie went to City Point this morning and found 
confusion there, as well as here. Last week the Gen- 
eral Hospital was moved about a mile up the river to 
establish winter quarters. Today it is being moved 
back to City Point. I refer to the Ninth Corps hos- 
pital; the others have not been disturbed. It is said 
we are to leave this department soon. Selnshnesi 
prompts me to wish it may be true. The campaign 
will then be ended for us, and there will be a possi- 
bility of getting a furlough. The corps is engaged 
in building fortifications to protect our rear, in case of 
an attack from that quarter. Recruits are pouring in 
rapidly; said to average seven thousand daily. 
Charlie says they are being drilled all the way to City 
Point. Grant's railroad, running in the rear of our 
lines, much of the way in sight of the Rebels, seems 
to annoy them exceedingly. Night before last they 
obtained a position from, which they could shell a 
long bridge that spanned a ravine, and began to 
fortify. Last night our forces charged these works, 
carried them and captured the working party. I 



Story of a Volunteer. 201 

could plainly hear the shouts of triumph that 
announced their success. General Grant is making 
preparations for the fall rains. In wet v/eather the 
roads are impassable for loaded wagons. The rail- 
road is completed and cars now run from City Point 
to the Weldon Road. 

September 15th, 1854. 
I have changed my quarters again. I was not 
needed at the hospital, there being as many nurses as 
patients. I cannot live here without some occupation 
Captain Sudborough wished me to return to the regi- 
ment and assist him. This suited my inclination, 
and I went. I found the company books precisely ds 
I left them, four irionths ago. I see plenty of work, 
and that is what I need — what I must have. I am 
always better satisfied when with the regiment. I 
left a nice house, but have another just as good. Sol- 
diers soon learn to take care of themselves. The 
Ninth Corps held a grand review today, which, of 
course, means move. 

Camp Seventeenth Michigan, 
Near Petersburg, Va., September 18th, 1864. 
Another Sabbath day has come — another week 
has passed away. We, of the army, take little note 
of tim.e. Eighteen days in succession our regiment 
has toiled, v/ithout intermission, on fortifications or on 
roads. Today is general inspection of arms, equip- 
ments, clothing, etc. The regiment musters one hun- 
dred twenty guns. It was a sad sight, to me, to see 



202 A Soldier's Diary. 

this little band of tried heroes march out and rally on 
their torn and battered colors. I thought of the 
hundreds who had given up their lives, a free offering 
on the altar of freedom; of others undergoing tortures 
more cruel than death in Rebel prisons. Of still 
others languishing on beds of sickness, far from home 
and kindred, v^^ith none but rough men to minister to 
their wants or speak a word of sympathy, and then I 
thought of my wife's last letter, in which she said: 
**It grieves me to say the majority of people here are 
not over-fastidious as to the means used to bring about 
peace." 

I would like to tell it so that all our friends might 
hear and know that it is true, that we, the soldiers in 
the army, hold in contempt the man who would accept 
peace on any other terms than submission to law. 
We have fought too long; have suffered too much; too 
many precious lives have been lost, to falter now. 

The Rebels themselves acknowledge all their hopes 
are based on a divided North; they are straining every 
nerve to hold out until after the fall elections, hoping 
their friends may triumph. 



Story of a Volunteer. 203 



CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

Blicks Station, Va., September 22cl, 1864. 

Blicks is the name of a station on the new railroad, 
near our camp. A spur runs from this road to each 
camp, and storehouses are being built. Nothing is 
being done here at present but building and drill. All 
hands are busy. Not an idle man in all this army, 
that is able to do duty. Old fortifications are being 
strengthened and new ones built, and drilling is pushed 
with as much vigor as fortifications and railroads. 
Barely enough men are left in the rifle pits to wat-ch the 
enemy; the rest are drilling — drilling — in squads, b> 
companies, battalions, brigades, and, twice a week, 
an entire division at a time. 

This place has become a camp of instruction for 
recruits. Some regiments are nearly full. The Fifty- 
fifth Massachusetts has received over two hundred 
"Yankees" direct from Germany. 

Glorious news from the "Valley" today. A dis- 
patch was read to the men on drill, giving the news of 
the day up to 6 p. m. of yesterday. The air was 
rent with shouts that could be heard for miles. We 
fully understand the importance of a genuine, decisive 
victory in that quarter. I am waiting, with feverish 
anxiety, the details of Sheridan's achievements. We 
are having beautiful weather — rain enough to lay the 
dust, but not enough to make the roads muddy. 



204 A Soldier's Diary. 

Blicb Station, September 24th, 1 864. 
Another letter from home reached me this morn- 
ing, giving me cause to thank God anew for His 
goodness and mercy in preserving, thus far, the lives 
of my dear family. It seems to me that, notwithstand- 
ing the sufferings we have endured the past two years, 
we have been highly favored by a kind Providence. 
We still remain an unbroken family, while others have 
fallen on our right hand and on our left. Although 
death has come so near we could almost feel his icy 
touch and see his grizzled visage, we have been spared. 
It is not for us to know why — short-sighted mortals 
that we are — we are led in safety through dangerous, 
crooked paths, but our past experience should teach 
us to trust, with unwavering faith, the hand that guides 
us. But, after all, how frail we mortals be, and pow- 
erless. I find it to be impossible to abate one jot 
of my anxiety in their behalf. I am keenly alive to 
all the embarrassments our situation exposes them to, 
and can only school myself to endure, for a brief 
period, by considering the sacredness of the cause in 
which w^e are engaged. My wife can never know 
how much the confidence she expresses in my integrity 
has strengthened me in my determination to deal justly. 
I acknowledge I have been tempted. The induce- 
ments held out to me have been strong. Thus far, 1 
have been enabled to resist them. The knowledge 
that my v/ife expects better things of me, added to my 
own sense of right, has thus far kept me, but there are 
times when I need advice — encouragement. I want 
it — crave it — from my wife alone. 



Story of a Volunteer. 205 

With men I am sufficiently self-reliant, asking no 
favors. With her it is different. I know she is 
sincere. I confide in her judgment; her intuition. 

I am somewhat disappointed in McClellan's letter 
of acceptance. I had given him credit for more 
manliness than he possesses. He accepts the nomnia 
tion but repudiates the platform, which is the soul of 
the party that nominated him. 

I do not know how it may be in the North, but he 
has lost his influence in the army. I have talked with 
many who were his friends, who now say they would 
as soon vote for Vallandingham. In fact, I hear 
none but boys, and a class of men whose only reason 
is, **d — n the m.an who won't vote for McClellan» 
anyhow," speak in his favor the last ten days. There 
is not the least excitement. Everyone seems to have 
settled down to the conviction that "Old Abe is the 
best we can do," and acts accordingly. 

Blicks Station, Va., September 26th, 1864. 

The Ninth Corps is in motion, being gradually 
withdrawn from the front. Various rumors are in 
circulation. That which seems to be the best authen- 
ticated is: "We go to Baltimore and report to Gen- 
eral Burnside." It is amusing to hear these matters 
discussed by men who are supposed to know nothing 
but to obey orders. 

We have heard nothing definite from Burnside 
since his return from his pleasure trip to the Green 
Mountains. I am positive he will not serve longer 
in this army, and equally positive he will have a com- 



206 A Soldier's Diary. 

mand somewhere, and that where he is, the Ninth 
Corps will go ; soon as it can be spared from here with 
safety. 

Paymasters are here, and will begin paying off 
today or tomorrow. There is some doubt about our 
regiment being paid this time. Our payrolls were 
wrong, and were sent back from Washington. I 
made them out anew, and they were sent off last Fri- 
day. If they receive prompt attention they may be 
returned in time. I cannot reconcile myself to the 
disappointment. I have had no pay in eleven months, 
and through no fault of my own. I am grieved foi 
my family's sake, and am really vexed at the wrong 
done me. 

Then Fremont has *'sold outV What a miser- 
able thing is his letter announcing the important fact. 
How much it reads like Vallandigham's speech **ra?- 
ifying" McClellan's letter of acceptance. 

September 28th. 1 864. 
About two miles from the hospital, two large mor- 
tars are planted — one thirteen-inch, the other fifteen- 
inch bore. From them to Petersburg is two and one- 
half miles. One evening — it was very dark — I hap- 
pened to be looking in that direction, when I saw a 
thread of fire leap from the woods where the mortars 
lay concealed, describe a half circle against the dark- 
ened sky, ending in a lurid light far away over the 
city. After this came the rushing, roaring, screaming^ 
sound flying through the air in sv/ift pursuit. If any 
harm was done it was all over with before the report 



««i 



Story of a Volunteer. 207 

reached me. Even so it was with my daughter's 
dangerous illness. Before I heard the report, the 
worst was over. Then imagination did its v/orst and 
filled my mind with dread foreboding. Days passed: 
long, endless days; and sleepless nights, ere anothei 
message reached me. Thank God, she lives! My 
child is better. 

It is 10 p. m., and the order is, "Pack up and be 
ready to march immediately." 

September 29th, 2 o'clock p. m. 

Since 2 o'clock last night we have been waiting — 
tents struck, everything ready — and still we wait. 
Everything goes but headquarters baggage. Sutlers' 
and extra baggage is ordered to City Point. For 
once I will try and refrain from speculation, and will 
await events. 

It is evening, and we still occupy our old camp 
This has been a day to try men's patience. All the 
long day, and most of last night, we have been in 
constant expectation of being called on to march. 
How many such days have I experienced, and still 
am prone to take it unkindly. Tell of "Job's 
patience;" doubtless he was sufficiently tried for ordi- 
nary purposes. I am glad he was not subjected to 
this. But the day has worn away, as all days must, 
and we will retire to rest with a strong conviction 
that something is about to happen — some time — 
somewhere — perhaps tonight — perhaps tomorrow. 
There never was a time, before this summer, that I 
could not tell, before a move was m.ade, exactly how. 



208 A Soldier's Diary. 

where and when it was to be done; what troops were 
to be engaged ; what would be the result, and all about 
it. But Grant has nearly taken the conceit out of me 
this summer. From the time we left Alexandria until 
now, every move he has made has been exactly con- 
trary to my "previously formed plans," thus causing 
much useless labor on my part. I would feel much 
chagrined did he not play the same pranks with 
editors who are supposed to know everything, and get 
pay for it, too, which I do not. However, I do not 
intend to go off in a pet and flare up with the old 
gentleman, for, after all, it turns out about as well 
as if he followed my plans. 

Today, from morning until night, teams and rail- 
road cars have been busy as bees removing everything 
movable from right to left, or toward City Point. 



Story of a Volunteer. 209 



CHAPTER XXXIX. 

Blicks Station, Va.. September 29th, 1864. 
Heavy skirmishing has been going on most of the 
afternoon, about six miles to our left, near Reams 
Station. Cavalry alone are engaged. For the last 
hour cheering has been heard in that direction. It 
gradually approaches — nearer — nearer still. It comes 
creeping along the line, in increasing volume. Now 
it has reached our division. What is it? Good 
news, of course, but from whom? From where? 
Has Mobile fallen, or Sherman executed some stra- 
tegic movement, or Sheridan driven Early headlon<3 
from the Valley, or — but hark, here it comes! "Fall 
in. Seventeenth, and listen to orders." The line is 
quickly formed; the Adjutant steps briskly forward, 
bearing a lantern in one hand, in the other a folded 
paper. "Attention, Seventeenth." The Seventeenth 
is all attention. He reads: "General Butler attacked 
the enemy on the right; carried his works on the 
Petersburg & Richmond Railroad; took fifteen pieces 
of artillery; three thousand prisoners; and is now 
within five miles of Richmond." Three cheers for 
General — no, not for Butler. "Three cheers for Gen- 
eral Grant." Ninety-one throats responded, and the 
noise passed on. The men gathered in groups to dis- 
cuss the glorious news for a few minutes, then retired 
to rest. 



210 A Soldier's Diary. 

We have moved at last. Captain Sudborough sent 
me back to the train with the regimental baggage. I 
remained there two days, when I was ordered to over- 
haul the baggage and send that which was not abso- 
lutely needed to City Point for storage. Monday I 
put the surplus on cars and took it to the Point and 
got it stored on a barge, and returned to camp in the 
evening. 

I found the regiment about one and one-half miles 
west of the Weldon Railroad. A.11 is quiet, with 
no signs of an immediate advance. Lieutenant 
Colonel Swift is here, chief of Wilcox's staff. Rath 
returned today with fourteen recruits. 

October 6th, 1864. 

We have come to a standstill once more, and are 
making ourselves "comfortable." We have a splen- 
did position, and are fortifying. We moved past the 
low, swampy country, and are now on high, sandy 
ground about four miles southwest of Petersburg. 
We have fitted up a very nice and comfortable camp. 
We have learned, by experience, that it pays as a san- 
itary measure. Old soldiers never sleep on the ground 
if they can get as m.any as two poles to sleep on. 
This is one reason why we enjoy better health than 
recruits. 

I have sad nev/s from Arthur Mathis. The poor 
boy has not long to live, and must die among strang- 
ers. It seems needless cruelty to keep him here, so far 
from friends and relatives who would gladly minister 
to his wants and smooth his pathway to the tomb. 



Story of a Volunteer. 211 

Payment was suspended by our late move, and, as 
our pay rolls are returned "Approved," we come in 
with the rest. 

Camp near Petersburg, Oct. 7th. 

It lacks nine days of four months since I first 
beheld, through sulphurous smoke and leaden hail, 
the tall spires of Petersburg. It was the time the 
Ninth Corps made their first charge and were repulsed. 
Since that time we have made several advances — 
alv/ays by the left fiank — until now we extend from 
river to river around the city. But we are not dis- 
couraged. In fact, we were never one-half so confi- 
dent as now. We are fulfillmg, to the letter, the old 
injunction to "make haste slowly." Experience tells 
us the taking of a city, a victory where the enem}*; 
"runs away and lives to fight another day," 
only prolongs the contest. Their armies muse 
be destroyed. Grant has hit upon the right plan. 
What if Copperheads do say "Grant cannot take 
Petersburg." We know better. His operations 
here are but part of a plan that is literally destroying 
Lee's army. It embraces Butler, on the James; Sher- 
idan, in the Shenandoah Valley; Sherman, in Georgia. 
All are acting in concert, controlled by one master 
spirit, who rules and guides the whole. 

For a time I feared Grant had met his match in 
Lee. But, as the plot thickens and the current of 
events brings out and develops his deep-laid plans, i 
see the hoary-headed traitor struggling with desperate 
but futile energy to disengage himself from the toils of 



212 A Soldier's Diary. 

his relentless foe. In speaking of Grant last spring I 
said, "I suspend judgment for the present." Since 
that time he has exhibited qualities that prove him to 
be, with scarcely a rival, the miUtary genius of the age. 
We talk of Sherman's campaign in Georgia; of 
Grant's campaign in Virginia; of Sheridan in the Val- 
ley; of Mobile and Charleston. There has been but 
one campaign, and that is Grant's campaign against 
the rebellion. The whole — north, south, east and 
west — had been guided and directed, under God, by 
his far-seeing mind. I believe we have at last found 
the man who is capable of directing the energies of 
this country, and of leading us on to victory and peace. 

October 8th, 1864. 
I received a letter from home this evening, freighted 
with love and wifely endearments. As I read that 
comforting letter, my heart overflowed with gratitude 
to the Giver of all Good for the bestowal of this. His 
most precious gift to man. I rejoice at the safe 
arrival of my "relic." I valued it more than money. 
I had marked several pieces which were my favorites. 
Am.ong them was one entitled "We Miss Thee at 
Home." The first time I sang it was in company 
with Mr. Collier and two other good singers. I was 
never in better trim for singing than on that night. 
We had sung several of my favorite pieces and were 
passing the otherwise tedious hours very pleasantly. 
But this was too m.uch for me. My voice, before so 
clear, suddenly thickened and became hoarse. My 
eyes, before so strong, refused to trace the "mystic 



Story of a Volunteer. 213 

words." I could only see my poor, grief -stricken 
wife, as, solitary and alone, she mourned her absent 
mate. 

But I must return from these "dreamy wanderings" 
to record the rugged scenes of cruel war. The Ninth 
Corps is again on the "war path." It started this 
morning, at daylight, on a reconnoissance toward the 
Soutii Side Railroad. When I last heard from them 
— at 3 p. m. — they had advanced one mile, driving 
the enemy before them, which brings them to within 
one mile of the road. Yesterday I could plainly hear 
the engines whistle defiantly. The Seventeenth 
remained in camp to receive pay. I have drawn for 
eleven months, which will relieve the most urgent needs 
of my family and enable them to tide over "the com- 
ing winter." One might infer, from what I have 
written this summer, that I had been a "m.an of busi- 
ness." Well, I have had a hand in nearly every thinsj 
that floats. My parole bars me from "regular duty," 
and, taking advantage of it, I have followed my inclin- 
ation in the main, only being careful to "keep within 
the lines." My Captain commands the regiment, 
and this makes me some extra work, as I do all his 
writing. Our business relations are satisfactory. He 
treats me with unvarying kindness. 

We have drawn our fall clothing today. It came 
in good time, for most of our men were thinly clad. 
The weather, which only three days ago was very hot, 
has suddenly taken cold — so cold we actually had a 
frost this morning; hardly discernible, 'tis true, but 
still a frost, and we were fain to get up early to 



214 A Soldier's Diary. 

"gather 'round the fire, and we piled the rails on 
higher" until we fairly turned night into day. All 
to little purpose, however, for, like "poor Harry Gill," 
my teeth did "chatter, chatter still." 

Our recruits who came to us recently say it is not 
nearly as cold here as in Michigan when they left. 
The General and his staff are having brick fireplaces 
built in each of their tents. Privates cannot afford 
this luxury, as brick houses are scarce in this part of 
the country. Unfortunately for us, the houses are all 
of wood, and their chimneys, when torn down, will 
not supply the officers with brick. Most of the 
houses, too, are occupied by their owners, they not 
having been notified of our contemplated visit. 

But hark! what causes all this uproar? More good 
news, I think, for I seldom have heard such cheering. 
"What is it, Amos?" "Don't know; guess Burn- 
side's come, er the boys 'ave scart up a rabbit." 
"More good news from Sheridan," says Charley. 
"He's had another big fight with Early, whipped him, 
took nineteen pieces of artillery, seven thousand pris- 
oners, most of his supply train, and, at last accounts, 
was following him up close, bound to capture his 
whole army or follow him into Richmond." I expect 
this is slightly exaggerated, but the news is good. 1 
wonder if the noise disturbs the Johnnies? 



Story of a Volunteer. 215 



CHAPTER XL. 

Peebles House, October 13th, 1864. 
The evenings are all my own, to pass as best I 
may, when in camp. When I can get candles 1 
write either to wife or children, or jot down some 
straggling thought in my diary. But candles are hard 
to get. Government furnishes only about one inch 
per day, and suders sell at seventy-live cents a pound, 
or two for a quarter. When I have no light, my 
evenings are spent in "wandering to and fro," dream- 
ing of my Northern home. I live, at present, a very 
secluded life, although surrounded by human beings. 
I have few sympathies in common with most men — or 
so it seems. Perhaps it is because all the sympathies 
of my nature, all the emotions of my soul, are con- 
stantly flowing, in one unceasing tide, back to my dis- 
tant fireside. How my impatient spirit chafes at the 
long delay. Fain would I lash the lagging wheels of 
time into more furious pace. What power there is in 
love — even human love. If I have any virtues that 
other men have not, they all are born of love. If fewer 
vices, love is the shield. Daily I strive to be that 
which the fond im.agination of my loving wife doth 
paint me. Oh, from the darkness of our sorrow may 
new light break forth, new strength to do and suffer, 
if need be, new resolves and freshest hopes. 



216 A Soldier's Diary. 

Colonel Luce, whom we have looked for since last 
Saturday, has just arrived. I have not seen him, but 
can now hear his voice as he inquires, with fatherly 
solicitude, as to the well-being of his men. He is one 
of the kindest, most indulgent of commanders; too in- 
dulgent, perhaps, but his men obey him cheerfully. I 
refer to the rank and file of the regiment; with officers 
he is sufficiently exacting. 

October 14th, 1864. 
I saw Colonel Luce this morning. He is much 
improved in health, and takes command of the regi- 
ment tomorrow. There are rumors in circulation that 
our regiment is to be broken up. It is said our recruits 
are to be transferred to the First Michigan Sharpshoot- 
ers, both officers and men, while the old members are 
to be retained at Division Headquarters as provost 
guard, clerks, orderlies, etc. 

Peebles House, October 15th, 1864. 
The army, at this point, is pursuing a course of 
"masterly inactivity." Even the work of fortifying, 
which has been carried on with so much vigor the past 
five months, is partially suspended. The hostile 
armies, separated by only a few rods of forbidden 
ground, are silently watching each other. Not a shot 
is fired, by day or night, along the front. The pick 
ets, in some places not more than ten rods apart, are 
on the best of terms, exchanging newspapers, trading 
rations for tobacco, etc. 



Story of a Volunteer. 217 

From the top of a hill but a few rods from here 
the Rebel camp is plainly visible. By the aid of a 
field glass I can see the "Johnnies" lounging lazily in 
camp or at work on their fortifications. But, for all 
this seeming quiet, we are in constant expectation of 
the storm that is liable to burst upon us at any moment. 
General Grant, with Secretaries Stanton and Fessen- 
den, are at Ninth Corps headquarters tonight. Gen- 
erally, where Grant goes a blow is to be struck. He 
is almost omnipresent. Today we hear of him with 
Sheridan, in the Valley; tomorrow he is closeted with 
the President; before we have time to turn around, he 
is back in City Point. 

Our officers are, during this temporary quiet, freely 
indulging in those refined tastes which army life is so 
well calculated to develop, by engaging in such inno- 
cent amusements and gentle recreations as horse rac- 
ing, gambling, and their usual accompaniments, com- 
missary whiskey, midnight revels and broken noses. 

Part of this I have seen; the rest is told me by a 
"reliable gentleman" on duty at headquarters. Of 
course, he does not make public what he sees, as it 
would cost him his position and do no good. Last 
Saturday a very exciting contest came off between two 
blooded horses, owned by two "bloods," both Brig- 
adier Generals. Another m.atch is announced for 
tomorrow and another for Saturday. With such 
examples, is it any wonder that gambling is on the 
increase? So far as my observation goes, nine men of 
every ten play cards for money. 



218 A Soldier's Diary. 

I received a letter from home today, filled witli 
gloomy forebodings. 

Sometimes, almost unconsciously, I give way to 
gloomy thoughts, bordering on despair, where hope lies 
buried. With me, such moods are of short duration. 
Can it be possible my darling wife has breathed the 
tainted air from the "slough of despondency" for two 
long years? Come up with me, dear one, and 
together let us climb the mountain of hope. Lean 
fearlessly on your husband, for he is strong in faith 
and will lead you gently up, above the dark, murky 
clouds of doubt, to bask in the bright sunshine of trust 
and confidence. Viewed from this height, how bright 
the prospect. Home treason lies powerless, bound hand 
and foot by a free people's choice. Armed treason, 
that hideous monster, is fiercely struggling in dying 
agony. Its heart still beats at Richmond; but Grant, 
and Sherman, and "Glorious Fhil" are sapping its life 
blood. When the heart shall cease to beat, the 
extremities must die. 

Peebles House, October 25th, 1864. 
We will probably, leave here tomorrow morning. 
Where we go no one knows, but all feel that some- 
thing startling is about to happen. Appearances indi- 
cate a long and rapid march. All baggage not abso- 
lutely needed is to be sent to City Point. Instead of 
wagons, pack horses are to be used. We are to 
carry three days' cooked rations in our haversacks, and 
five days' uncooked in our knapsacks. A pontoon 
bridge is to accompany us. 



Story of a Volunteer. 219 

October 26th, 1 2 o'clock m. 
Active preparations still continue. All detailed 
men are ordered to their regiments. Cooks, clerks and 
grooms, and even commissary sergeants, are ordered 
to carry guns, or have them on hand in case of emer- 
gency. We will not move until night, if then. All 
Michigan men v/ho are sick in hospitals are to have 
furloughs. I have made out several today. 

4 o'clock p. m. 
The General is striking tent; will probably be off in 
the night. We are ready to march at "tap of drum." 
All surplus stores, everything that might in any way 
impede our march, has been sent to City Point. Of 
the men, those who are so fortunate as to be sick, be 
it ever so little, are on their way to Michigan. I have 
been at Headquarters nearly all day making out fur- 
loughs. It is an agreeable task, even when I am not 
personally interested. Many of the poor fellows have 
not been home since they enlisted, and would not now, 
had not furloughs been given by wholesale. 

7 o'clock p. m. 
We have just been notified we march at 3 o'clock 
tomorrow morning. 

Peebles House, October 28th, 1 864. 
Contrary to expectations, we are back again in our 
old camp. I confess I am disappointed. I can form 
no idea, at present, of the result of the movement, as 



A Soldier's Diary. 



I know nothing of Butler's operations the last two 
days. I conclude it was only a feint, on our part, to 
draw part of Lee's forces from Richmond, out of But- 
ler's way. Be that as it may, to me it was a failure. 
The "Fighting Second," commanded by the "invinci- 
ble Hancock," was to have the honor of attacking, 
while the Fifth and Ninth were to draw their atten- 
tion to other points. The attack was m.ade, and the 
Rebels were driven before them, like chaff before the 
wind, until our forces struck the railroad. Then the> 
rebounded like a rubber ball. 

October 29th, 1864. 
Having somewhat recovered from the fatigues of 
our late expedition, and the keen edge being worn from 
the mortification I felt at falling back to our old quar- 
ters, I can see that, if not successful, no great disaster 
befell our army. I have heard nothing from Butler; 
nothing to prove this to have been a feint, while the 
real attack was to have been made at another point, 
but of this I am sure, an earnest, determined attack 
was not made on the left; barely enough to show the 
Rebels were in strong force. So soon as this was 
ascertained, the Second and part of the Fifth Corps 
withdrew and marched rapidly to the right. Our loss 
was not heavy — about seven hundred. 



Story of a Volunteer. 221 



CHAPTER XLI. 

Peebles House, Va., November 4th, 1864. 

We have had a few days of cold, stormy weather. 
It even snowed a little yesterday. We have built 
comfortable quarters, most of them with fireplaces. I 
have been so busy since our return, with muster rolls, 
monthly returns, etc., that I was compelled to post- 
pone building until today. We have a very comfort- 
able place, built of pine logs, six feet by seven on the 
inside. It is completed except "chunk and daubing,' 
which will occupy but a short time. About half of 
it is occupied by our bed. In one corner is our table, 
two by three feet square. The remaining corner is 
our sitting room. Our bed of poles is covered with a 
thick layer of "Virginia feathers." Over these x 
rubber and one blanket, leaving one blanket and our 
overcoats to spread over us. 

We may not remain here long to enjoy the fruits of 
our labor, but then, we may. Probably another 
attempt to move will not be made until after election. 
I will be heartily glad when that is over. I am sick, 
tired, disgusted with the whole arrangement. Popu- 
lar election, indeed! Tt is all humbug. The very 
name is a lie and a cheat. Mr. Winegar, of Grass 
Lake, has arrived as commissioner to receive the votes 
of Michigan regiments. The McClellan vote will be 



222 A Soldier's Diary. 

quite strong in this regiment unless something can be 
done to counteract it. The French recruits will all 
vote that way, and they comprise nearly one-half the 
regiment. 

"Fall in for mail," is the cry of our Postmaster. 
Not expecting as much pleasure as another letter would 
give me, I continued to write, listening, all the time, to 
hear whose names were called. Can it be? Yes, 
my name is called. Another dear letter. Oh, my 
sweet wife, would to God I could fold you in my 
arms and pillow your weary head upon my bosom, 
its rightful resting place. 

All Michigan men in hospitals who want furloughs 
get them. I have no idea this cam.paign will end 
until Richmond is taken and Lee's army is destroyed. 
Grant has fought all summer "on these lines," and 
will continue the fight all winter if not successful. But 
the time is close at hand when military operations must, 
of necessity, be suspended. Furloughs will then be 
given, and I will avail myself of the first opportunity. 

Peebles House, Va., November 8th, 1864. 
It is the evening after election. The turmoil and 
excitement of the day is past, and, almost prostrated 
by the intense anxiety of the past week, I long to flee 
to the sympathetic heart of my wife for comfort and 
consolation. Never before has a political contest 
assumed such vast proportions. In it I see a Nation 
sitting in judgment on its own acts. The question to 
be decided involves its very existence. Individuals are 
lost sight of. Life and death hang quivering in the 



Story of a Volunteer. 223 

balance. Feeling this, I entered into the contest witli 
all the energies of my nature. "Sleep departed 
from my eyes and slumber from my eyelids." My 
sphere was circumscribed, but it was no light task to 
rescue my own loved regiment from a record of infamy. 
Thank God, it is accomplished. Of one hundred 
ninety-four votes polled today, only forty-six were cast 
for McClellan and Secession. One week ago they 
claimed a m.ajority. At that time, in Company G, 
eleven out of eighteen loudly proclaimed fidelity to the 
"Hero of Malvern Hill." Today, in this same com- 
pany, three votes were polled for him. I think I can 
say with truth, and without egotism, the result is 
largely due to my efforts. I devoted my time mainly to 
the recruits throughout the regiment, visiting them in 
their tents, seldom leaving one until I had obtained a 
promise that he would not vote for "Little Mac." 
Faithfully they kept their word in nearly every 
instance. 

The day was fine. At sunrise the regiment assem 
bled, chose inspectors, clerks, etc., and proceeded to 
business. I never knev/ an election to pass off so 
quietly. No drunken brawls, for whiskey could not 
be obtained. General Wilcox and staff came over 
and deposited their votes. It had been confidently 
asserted that Wilcox would vote for McClellan, but 
he called for an "Administration ticket" and deposited 
it in the ballot box. No partiality v/as shown to rank; 
several officers were challenged and had to swear in 
their votes. The day, with its overA^helming weight 
of responsibility, is passed beyond recall and I 



224 A Soldier's Diary. 

calmly await the announcement of the result. As the 
polls were about to close, a telegram was received 
announcing the capture of the pirate Florida. I 
accept it as an omen of good. 

November 10th, 1864. 
Mr. Collier came over and spent the evening with 
me. His visits are highly prized by me. He brought 
his note book, and we sang "Sweet Home" together, 
and then, as usual, we talked of home. He is a sin- 
gular being — a "specimen," and a rare one, too. It 
is impossible to be long afflicted with the dumps when 
in his society. Like a bubbling spring, he overflows 
with mirth and good nature, and is sufficiently intelli- 
gent to be an agreeable companion. Goodness is nat- 
ural to him. He neither chews, smokes, drinks whis- 
key or uses profane language. There is not a particle 
of deceit in his composition. Added to all these good 
qualities, and many more I might mention, he adores 
his wife and baby. All this I can say of him, after 
two years of intimate acquaintance. Spite of the 
contrast between us, and it is great, the strong attach- 
ment and friendship I feel for him is reciprocated. 

November 1 1 th, I 864. 
I have gratified a long-cherished wish today — that 
of visiting the outer fortifications in our front. I wish 
some of my Northern friends, who are disposed to 
growl because the army does not "m.ove forward,' 
had been with me. The questions they ask would 
have answered themselves, for, in looking at our works. 



Story of a Volunteer. 225 

they would have seen a counterpart of the Rebels*. 
First, a continuous chain of rifle pits, or breastworks, 
running from Appomattox River, on our right, to our 
extreme left, where it turns a half circle back, in our 
rear, toward City Point. These works are built of 
pine logs laid up as high as a man's head, and firmly 
joined together. On the side facing the enemy a ditch 
is cut, about eight feet from the logs, the dirt being 
thrown up against them and firmly packed, forming a 
protection against solid shot, and shell unless they 
burst directly overhead. In front of these works, from 
a quarter to a half mile, the timber is "slashed," ren- 
dering it next to impossible for men to make their way 
through it, even if not opposed. Much of the way 
the breastworks are protected by abbattis. A ditch 
is dug some three feet deep, from four to six rods in 
front of the line of breastworks, then the tops of trees 
are inserted in the ditch closely packed together, every 
limb sharpened and projecting toward the enemy, and 
the dirt is then thrown back and packed, to hold them 
firmly in place. But this is the weakest point of the 
line of defense. 

All along this extended line, at every angle, forts 
are built, mounting twelve to thirty guns. These forts 
are within musket range of each other, so situated as to 
sweep the intervening space with grape and canister. 

This is a very faint and imperfect description, but 
is, I think, enough to show that mortal man cannot 
carry these works, if earnestly defended. The Rebel 
works are quite as strong as ours. 

I had several fine views of them through a field 



A Soldier's Diary. 



glass, which annihilated distance, so far as vision is 
concerned. Half way between the two lines are the 
pickets, but a few rods apart. 

November 13th, 1864. 

It has been growing cold all day, and toward night 
the wind increases to a gale, bringing a few flakes of 
snow with it. 1 omorrow we begin building winter 
quarters, by order of the General commanding. So 
the vexed question of moving seems to have been set- 
tled. Mail matter came in freely last night. 

The election returns are very gratifying to me. The 
people, with a unanimity never equaled, have decided 
in favor of a united government. President Lincoln 
is now, emphatically, the chosen of the people, he hav- 
ing received a majority of all the votes cast. Sup- 
ported by the moral force of the Nation, he can now 
proceed, untrammeled, with the great work before him. 

There is much talk in the newspapers of a Thanks- 
giving dinner which is to be given the Army of the 
Potomac and the James by volunteer contributions of 
the people of the North. It is a gigantic undertaking, 
but can be accomplished by the aid of Adams Express 
Company, who, I understand, have offered to deliver 
free of charge. 

The new railroad is completed to within a half 
mile of Ninth Corps Headquarters, on the extreme left 
of the line. Wagon loads of express boxes arrive at 
Division Headquarters nearly every day. Nearly 
every man in our regiment has received a box filled 
with "creature comforts." I had the pleasure of test- 



Story of a Volunteer. 227 

ing the quality of some Michigan butter today, sent to 
a Mr. Hopkins, of Oakland County. He was so 
unfortunate as to get a furlough on the day of its 
arrival, and left it in care of his tent mates, enjoining 
them to be sure and not let it spoil. They are doing 
all in their power to prevent it, with fair prospects of 
success. About one-fourth of the sixteen pounds is 
already saved. 

An incident just occurred that created some excite- 
ment. A man who claims to have once belonged to 
the Eleventh New York Cavalry, now a cripple in 
both arms, has been: through camp selling paipers* 
songs, etc. One of our men, thinking he recognized 
him as a Rebel spy whom he had seen in Frederick 
City, Maryland, reported him as such to the Provost 
Marshal. He was able to give a good account of 
himself, however, producing a pass signed by the Sec- 
retary of War, and a letter of recommendation from 
General Phil Sheridan. 



A Soldier's Diary. 



CHAPTER XLII. 

Peebles House. Va., Nov. 15th, 1864. 

All is quiet in front of Petersburg. The sharp 
crack of the rifle is superseded by the clatter of axes. 
When we came here, some six weeks ago, this whole 
country was almost an unbroken wilderness. Now 
hundreds of acres are completely stripped of tree and 
shrub. The officers have built good, substantial log 
houses, with brick chimneys. The Seventeenth is now 
building stockades for the General's horses. 

I have had but little work since election, most of 
my work coming on during the last half of each month. 
A short period of rest v/as never more grateful, or 
more needed — I have not been sick; only worn out, 
as sometimes happens when teaching school. "Teach- 
ing school;" how the phrase calls up old memories of 
the shadowy past. Thank God, they are pleasant 
memories. I wonder, will I ever more follow that, to 
me, delightful occupation? I think not; the "old 
man," after three years of "service," can hardly ex- 
pect to be "up to date." 

We are looking again with our accustomed eager- 
ness, for the "Greenback Man." We expect, too. 
General Burnside will be here, in a day or two, to 
take command of his old corps again. The event 
will be hailed by us with joy. Let others think of him 



Story of a Volunteer. 220 

as they may, he possesses the confidence of the Ninth 
Corps to an unlimited extent. The reverse is true of 
our present commander. General Parke. 

November 18th, 1864. 

This has been one of the most pleasant days that 
ever visited this storm-swept world. So soft and 
balmy — I have not words to describe it; I have almost 
fallen in love with this Southern climate. 

I confess to a feeling of dread when I think of the 
severity of our Northern winters. The coldest weathev 
we have yet had was only sufficient to cause a light 
frost. And yet I actually suffered with cold before 1 
had a fireplace in my house. 

The house I built a few days ago was comfortable, 
but rather small. I could not build larger, for I had 
not the strength to draw the logs on my back. For- 
tune has been kind to me, as usual. 

Today I moved into a large, nev/ house, all com- 
plete. It happened in this wise. The regiment had 
been at work at the field hospital and for General 
Wilcox, which made it impossible to build their own 
houses without resorting to strategy. The day before 
yesterday a squad of men from our company was 
detailed, as usual, to cut logs for the General's stables. 
On reaching the woods, Charlie Groesbeck and Wil- 
liam Jones separated from the squad and went to work 
on their own account. By 1 1 o'clock their timber 
was cut; how to get it drawn was the next question. 
Luck favored them. A teamster came along looking 
for a load of brush that was to have been cut by — 



230 A Soldier's Diary. 

somebody. The boys told him they "guessed" they 
were the men, but the brush were not all cut. If he 
would draw a load of logs they had cut, the brush 
would be ready on his return. He consented to the 
arrangement, and the thing was done. The next day 
they built their house, and, when completed, invited 
me to share its comforts. 

General Burnside has been here. He had hardly 
arrived before the air was filled with rumors, all look- 
ing to a removal from this department. One newspa- 
per has it the Seventeenth is to be detached from the 
corps to guard prisoners at Elmira, New York. 

I was the recipient of a handsome present last night 
— a portfolio bound in morocco. The donor is W. 
B. Jones, one of my tent m.ates. 

November 20th, 1 864. 

A storm of forty-eight hours' duration has followed 
the pleasant weather of last v/eek; two days and nights 
of incessant rain; and still, as night shuts in, the dark- 
ening clouds foretell another night of storm. Doubt- 
less the long-talked-of fall rains have set in. From a 
military point of view, it may be unfortunate. A 
move was in contemplation which must be suspended, 
for the present. In all probability General Butler 
will have time to test his "peace doctrine" before he 
can resume active operations. 

It is my design to confine myself to facts, when 
writing in my journal, and to leave out my own opin- 
ions and speculations, but I find it to be impossible. I 
am so deeply interested in the progress of events, I 



i 



Story of a Volunteer. 231 

cannot always confine myself to the past and present. 
I am continually watching, with intense anxiety, for 
something on which to hang a hope of coming peace. 
In almost every transaction of daily life, that which we 
firmly resolved to do is already half completed. I hail 
the result of the late elections as the expressed deter- 
mination of the American people to fight the battle 
out to the bitter end. Grant calls it "a great moral 
victory, depriving the Rebels of their most efficient 
weapon." 

Long have they, with exultation, pointed to a 
"divided North," and to what they pleased to call a 
"united South." Time was when they were united, 
but that time has passed. They have experienced 
the horrors of war, as no other people of modern 
times have experienced them. They know, without 
help from some quarter, their cause is hopeless. That 
help, Jefferson Davis tells them, they need not expect 
The New York Herald says: "President Lincoln 
can now afford to be magnanimous. Let him offer 
them terms of honorable peace." Good might come 
of it, but I would not have him abate one jot or tittle 
in the vigor of preparation, or withhold his hand when 
possible to strike. On the whole, I see abundant 
cause for encouragement. To me, the future is full 
of promise. 

November 22d, 1 864. 

The storm that has raged the last three days ha*; 
passed away. Since last Friday evening until today, 
there has been a steady downpour. The swamps and 
lowlands are flooded. In our camp, situated as it is 



232 A Soldier's Diary. 

on high, sandy land, no inconvenience is felt. Now 
is the time Grant's railroad comes in play. Without 
it we could not hold our position. About half the 
land between here and the Point is submerged; all of 
it is as bottomless. 

Our furloughed men have all returned. They all 
tell the same story; a pleasant, happy time, but oh, so 
short, so quickly passed. They had only fifteen days. 
So soon as twenty days are offered, I will make an 
effort to obtain one for myself. 

November 23d, 1864. 

It is very cold today. The wind changed to the 
west last night, with a snap to it, which reminded me, 
oh, so vividly, of home. Many is the time my wife 
and I have sat, side by side, and listened to the furi- 
ous blast as it raged harmlessly outside, and I won- 
dered if my loved one was nov/, alone and trembling, 
passing through a similar experience. 

The sun shines brightly, but fails to warm the 
frozen earth. When I awoke this morning I heard 
the heavy army wagons thundering over the frozen 
earth. 

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. Already the "good 
things" donated by the generous people of the North 
begin to arrive. My tent mates and I have been get- 
ting a supply of wood today. It is becoming scarce 
and hard to get. By bringing it a mile, in our arms, 
we have accumulated a quarter of a cord of good oak. 
wood, which will last nearly a week. 

I must now stop writing and draw our company 



• 



Story of a Volunteer. 233 

ration of soft bread, which is issued tv/ice a week. 
We also get mackerel once a week, codfish once, 
with ROW and then one potato and one onion per man. 

November 26th, 1864. 

Thanksgiving Day came bright and beautiful, as 
though Nature smiled approval, and accepted the thank 
offering which kind friends, with a degree of liberality 
never equaled, have sent to cheer the hearts and make 
glad the stomaclis of their "brave defenders." 1 am 
sorry to be compelled to say the kind intentions of our 
friends were, in a measure, thwarted by circumstances 
beyond their control. The transports that brought 
them to City Point v/ere delayed by a storm and did 
not arrive until Friday evening. Then the work of 
unloading and distributing to the difFerent corps occu- 
pied all the time until Thanksgiving morning. The 
iirst installment, designed for the Ninth Corps, did not 
reach this station until noon of that day. The after- 
noon was consumed in issuing to divisions, and from 
them to regiments. We must wait until morning for 
our dinner. 

Doubtless all have seen, in newspapers, an estimate 
of articles sent to this army. From it, and the time 
consumed in distribution, some idea can be formed of 
the amount of food consumed by an army in one day, 
and the necessity of keeping its line of supplies in 
working order. 

November 26th, 1864. 

A dinner of roast turkey in the army! I am 
inclined to think it unparalleled in the annals of war- 



234 A Soldier's Diary. 

fare. There were liquors of almost every brand; tur- 
keys both roast and raw; chickens with rich dressings; 
pies, cakes, fruits and sweetmeats — enough, as 
intended, for every soldier in the army. 

Now for the result. 

We drew, for thirty-three men in Company G, 
twenty pounds roast turkey; thirty green apples; four 
pounds potatoes; seven cookies; three doughnuts; 
seven papers fine cut tobacco; three papers smoking. 
The regiment drew in proportion. 

We will not measure our thanks to the generous 
donors by what we received. The effort on their part 
is appreciated by us, and will be cherished as an 
expression of sympathy and good will. 



«.! 



Story of a Volunteer. 235 



CHAPTER XLIII. 

Camp near Petersburg, Va., 

November 30th. 1 864. 

"Be ready to march tomorrow morning." This h 
the order that greeted us the night before last at 10 
o'clock. It was a surprise to us, as we had seen no 
indications of such an order; not even an order to 
draw extra rations. 

In the morning we learned the Ninth Corps was to 
relieve the Second Corps in front of Petersburg. At 
1 o'clock the next morning we were under way. 
The day was cloudless, the roads in fine condition, 
and we made the sixteen miles at 3 o'clock in the after- 
noon. 

We halted within two miles of our destination until 
dark, as the rest of the way was in range of Rebel 
guns, and in plain view. In the interval we treated 
ourselves to coffee and hardtack, the first since morning. 
Soon as it was fairly dusk we resumed our march, and 
brought up, a little after dark, on the right of Peters- 
burg, near the Appomattox River. It seems like meeting 
old acquaintances, after weeks of separation. This 
part of the line is nearest the city, and is the scene of 
the "usual amount of firing" mentioned in every daily 
paper. Many is the evening Mr. Collier and I have 
visited these hills and listened to the thunders of artil- 



236 A Soldier's Diary. 

lery that threatened to shake them from their founda 
tions. Too tired to pitch my tent, I spread my blan- 
kets on the ground, and, undisturbed by the roar of 
cannon, sweetly slept until morning. This mornin.;, 
we relieved the Thirty-sixth Wisconsin, and took pos 
session of their quarters, which are very comfortable. 

We are encamped on a high hill that overlooks the 
city, and the Rebel lines are in full view, far to the 
right and left. Close by is a fort that mounts "thirty - 
two-pounders." 

Eighty of our men are permanently detailed at Gen- 
eral Wilcox's headquarters; the rest are scattered or 
temporary details. 

Captain Sudborough is in commaRd of a detach- 
ment on the railroad near City Point. I will repoit 
to him tomorrow. 



Cedar Bottom, Va., December 3d, 1864. 

I have just settled in my new quarters with Captain 
Sudborough's detachment. We are three miles from 
the regiment and five from City Point. The men are 
well pleased with this kind of soldiering. They have 
good quarters, plenty of rations, light duty, and are out 
of reach of Rebel bullets; the first time in seven months. 
There are sixty men on duty here. 

Colonel Luce has resigned and starts for home next 
Monday. His reasons are given out as "broken 
health, ruined fortunes," and a kindly regard for his 
men, whom he loves as a father loves his children- 
Had he remained, his rank would have forced us into 



Story of a Volunteer. 237 

the line, as the Second Brigade is now commanded by 
a Lieutenant Colonel. 

He is one of the most kindly men I ever met, and 
we will miss him sadly. I am living alone, away 
from the noise and turmoil of my boisterous compan- 
ions. I prefer thus to live, where I can v/ork without 
interruption, and, v/hen my task is done, can revel in 
my own small "world of thought." 

I will apply for a furlough next Monday. It will 
be detained five or six days in the "Circumlocution 
Office," which v/ill bring me home about the fifteenth, 
if successful. 

December 6th, 1 864. 

I find, on inquiry, the time has not yet come for me 
to visit my loved home. Since the fourteenth of last 
month, furloughs have only been given in extreme 
cases. They are now entirely suspended, for a brief 
period, in the Ninth Corps. 

Grant is concentrating his forces. The Sixth 
Corps has just arrived, and is moving to the left. The 
Nineteenth Corps is on the way. Porter is collecting 
his fleet of ironclads in the vicinity of Dutch Gap. 
Butler's canal is nearly completed. Should this canal 
prove to be a success. Porter may make a desperate 
attempt to reach the Rebel Capital, the land forces 
co-operating on the right and left. But this move, 
whatever it may be, is not the cause of furloughs being 
withheld, for the order is confined to the Ninth Corpj. 
Men are going, every day, from, other portions of the 
army. General Burnside was here on Saturday, and 
returned to Washington on Sunday. On Monday the 



238 A Soldier's Diary, 

order was issued: "No more furloughs from the 
Ninth Corps until further orders." 

Lieutenant Colonel Swift is trying to get leave to 
take the regiment to Michigan to recruit. General 
Wilcox tells him the old members have seen more 
than their share of hard service, and advises him to 
let them remain where they are until their term of ser- 
vice expires. Swift is ambitious, and has an "itching 
palm" to wear the silver eagle. 

December 1 5tli, 1864. 

Another sweet messenger from home, dated Decem- 
ber 4th. It seems to have been quite a long time on 
the way; ten days in a time of comparative quiet. 

I do not know how it may be with those removed 
from these busy scenes of strife, but, with me, the 
mighty present sv/allows up the events of the past and 
almost obliterates them from memory. Movements 
which, in process of execution, claim all our attention 
and from which the grandest results are anticipated, 
become, when past, but as a "watch in the night." 

All eyes are now turned on Sherman, awaiting news 
of him in breathless suspense. At the same time 
movements are on foot here that will eventually com- 
pel the evacuation of Petersburg. 

Unfavorable weather has caused a short delay, but 
the storm is over and our troops are on the march 
again. Meanwhile, I can wait, feeling that "the 
night is far spent and the dawn is at hand," doing the 
little I can for my fellows and my country; ambitious 
only that I may be worthy the good opinion of my 



Story of a Volunteer. 239 

loving wife, so tenderly, confidingly expressed in this, 
her last letter. Courage, dear one; yet a little longer 
must we toil and struggle on. Our paths are now 
converging ; they soon will meet, in blissful union ; then, 
hand in hand, together will we pass down the decliv- 
ity of life, purified and made better by these sore 
trials. 

So we are to have another dinner — a Christmas 
dinner — prepared by the kind friends at home expressly 
for the Seventeenth Regiment, the v/hole to be super- 
intended by Mr. Winegar, of Grass Lake. Morti- 
mer has rejoined his regiment. I heard of the event 
last night, and early this morning started in quest of 
him. His regiment is in the inner line of works, about 
five miles from here, near a large fort called the Crater, 
from the manner in which it belches fire and smoke 
and iron m.issiles from its huge guns. I found him 
looking well, though a little thin, and was glad to 
see him, for had he not just returned from home — my 
home? Had he not seen and conversed with my 
loved ones, only a few days instead of years ago? 
And then, those little articles of comfort, direct from 
home; precious mementoes of a wife's devotion and 
tender remembrance. Is it any wonder as I clasped 
his hand, my eyes were dim with the mists of pleas- 
ing memories? 

I will not attempt to picture the pleasure I experi- 
enced as I looked on that on which my wife's dear 
eyes had rested, watered, perhaps, with bitter tears; in 
handling that which was fashioned by her hands. 
And those towels! Soon as I returned I hung one 



240 A Soldier's Diary. 

beside the door of my little house. How homelike 
it did look! And then I washed me very carefully, 
lest I stain its snowy whiteness and dried me on her 
towel, as I used to do at home. Can I ever wear 
those stockings? For her dear sake I will, although it 
seems like sacrilege. 

I could only spend two hours with Mortimer, but 
we made the best possible use of the time. During 
that time I heard more gossip than in the past two 
years. 

He told everything *'I said and they said," with the 
variations; some agreeable, some otherwise. I asked 
him what he thought of our darling baby, Nell. "Oh, 
it's quite a decent-looking young one, but no better 
than other folks's." He said: "Aunt Sene asked 
me if she wasn't the handsomest grandchild they had, 
and I told her *No, Flora was.' " Then, fearing he 
had shocked my sensibilities, he apologized by saying: 
"Flora has got to be a darned purty girl; you never 
see anybody change as she has." 

I saw Billy Richardson. He says he can go on 
picket and fire his "hundred rounds" at nothing as well 
as anybody. 

December 22d, 1 864. 
I walked three miles and waited until 9 o'clock 
this evening, so sure was I of tidings from home. 1 
waited in vain. I was disappointed but not dis- 
heartened. Surely tomorrow I will be more fortunate, 
and if not tomorrow, I will still wait patiently, trust- 
ing that all is well. 



Story of a Volunteer. 24 i 

I do not know why it is, but I cannot feel down- 
hearted of late. Whether it is owing to the buoy- 
ant health I now enjoy, the conviction that the crisia 
is passed and peace is about to smile upon our blood- 
stained land; or that the time is drawing nigh when I 
may return to my loved ones; whether it be either or 
all of these, T cannot tell, but so it is. I feel a light- 
ness and buoyancy of mind and body that I have been 
a stranger to for years. 

I do not forget, even for one moment, the sufferings 
to which my family are exposed this terrible winter, 
and I thank God for putting it into the heart of Brothei 
Salmon to furnish them firewood and for other acts of 
kindness. 

We are having cold weather here just now. It 
actually froze a little last night. Snow fell on the 
tenth, about an inch deep. In a day or two the sun 
came out and it fled from before the brightness of his 
face. Our winters here are about like Michigan, 
with December, January and February left out. 



242 A Soldier's Diary. 



CHAPTER XLIV. 

Camp Seventeenth Michigan Infantry, 

December 30th, 1 864. 

Company G has been relieved from detached duty 
and has rejoined the regiment. I left my snug little 
house this morning at sunrise. Rain fell thick and 
fast all the forenoon. In the afternoon it changed to 
sleet and snow, growing quite cold the while, until 
now, evening, it is quite winterlike. But I am already 
provided for until I can build a house of my own. I 
had no sooner arrived than a good Samaritan, by pity 
moved, opened his heart and door and bade me enter. 
I will soon have another house as comfortable as the 
one I left. I will now have one tent mate, as I cannot 
build alone. We sent our brick and lumber from 
Cedar Bottom yesterday. Monday we will get the 
logs and build our house. 

January 1st, 1865. 

The storm is past; the sun shines out, bright and 
cheerful, giving golden promise of the coming years. 
My darling's birthday, too. I had fondly hoped it 
might be my lot to be with her on that day. Wc 
have received no mail the last three days. A 
new arrangement has been made at the distributing 
office, in Washington, the mail being now distributed 
by brigades. 



Story of a Volunteer. 243 

The Seventeerxth could not be found in this great 
army, as we are not brigaded. A special dispatch 
was sent out instructing the mail agent to send our 
mail to First Division* Ninth Corps. 

General Wilcox is in temporary command of the 
corps. The Rebels improve every opportunity to 
desert. All agree as to the scarcity of supplies and 
the hopelessness of their cause. 

January 5th, 1865. 

We mustered for pay December 31st, and I have 
been very busy every day, and often far into the night, 
making out muster rolls. A muster roll is a sheet of 
paper two feet by three feet square, the space between 
the lines about two-thirds as wide as the ruling on 
legal cap paper. On the left is a column in whicn 
the names of the men are written in alphabetical order. 
Then follows a complete description — where, when 
and by whom enlisted; where, when and by whom 
mustered ; when and by whom last paid ; where he now 
is ; why and how long he has been absent ; if anything 
is due the Government, for transportation, fines, dam- 
ages, etc., or if due the soldier for clothing not drawn, 
etc. It must all be stated. 

Company G musters seventy-two men, present and 
absent. In order to get all this on six square feet of 
paper, I am forced to write as fine as possible, and 
frequently to interline. 

Then, four of these papers are filled at each mus- 
ter, corresponding in every particular, the least error 
in one spoiling the whole. We muster the last day of 



244 A Soldier's Diary. 

each alternate month, and the rolls must be completed 
within three days thereafter. 

My rolls were in on time, and I have been at Head- 
quarters all day, helping to compare and correct the 
regimental rolls, preparatory to sending them to Wash- 
ington. 

I have forced myself to v/rite thus calmly of every- 
day occurrences, when, in fact, my very blood is on 
fire, and every emotion of my soul is in a tumult of 
glad expectancy. 

I am going home. My furlough has been approved 
and is now at Division Headquarters. It will reach 
me in a day or two. Then will I Ry, on wings of 
steam, to my beloved one's fond embrace. 

Baltimore, Md., February 1st, 1865. 

They have had cold weather here during my 
absence. The Potomac is frozen, which will prevent 
my going by way of Washington, as I had hoped to 
do. The cold weather is past, however, and it is 
now warm as summer. I have had the best possible 
luck, so far on my return trip, and everything looks 
favorable for the remaining part. I called on the 
Provost Marshal and got a pass for two days, as I will 
be detained until 2 o'clock tomorrow afternoon. 

My furlough expires at 12 o'clock tonight, but i 
have m.ade the best possible use of today, and will 
have no trouble. My pass will take me on board the 
boat; then I am all right to City Point, where my 
regiment is doing guard duty. Of course, I 
will have no trouble there. I have been to the 



Story of a Volunteer. 245 

transportation office, and have the promise of transpor- 
tation tomorrow noon, and will reach City Point on 
Friday. 

Carnp near Petersburg, February 4th, 1865. 

Once more I find myself in camp, ready to act my 
humble part in the closing scenes of this great drama. 
I arrived at my journey's end last evening; found the 
regiment where and as I left it; the men in good health 
and spirits. 

I had the good fortune to meet my comrade, 
Charles Groesbeck, at the depot in Jackson. Our 
journey to Baltimore was pleasant as circumstance's 
would admit; no accident, which is itself an accident. 

At Baltimore our annoyances began. The bay had 
been closed for nearly a week. My furlough expired 
that night. Thursday morning I went to the Quarter- 
master to see if a boat was likely to leave. I learned 
the mail boat was to make an effort at 3:30 p. m. 
We were not alone; hundreds of soldiers were there 
on the same errand; some had been v/aiting over a 
week. There was a rush for transportation, and we 
were forced to leave our furloughs until noon, when 
they v/ould be returned to us with our transportatioii 
papers. Noon came, and with it our furloughs — 
minus the others. There was a iix. We would not 
be allowed on board without it; to obtain it that day 
would be impossible. At the wharf we found a Gov- 
ernment shipping agent, whose duty it is to furnish 
transportation for troops when ordered by the Quar- 
termaster. He informed us that a Government vessel 



24:6 A Soldier's Diary. 

was to leave for Fort Monroe at 3:30, and, transpor 
tation or not, he would see us on board, and then we 
could take the mail for City Point. The time came, 
but no Government vessel, and the mail was about to 
leave. The bell rings; again it sounds out a warning, 
peal; in five minutes she is off. Already they are pre- 
paring to haul in the planks. A hundred men in blue 
appeared, maddened by the unnecessary delay; gather 
around, threateningly. The temptation was irresist- 
ible ; a charge was made ; the guards were swept aside , 
we are on board. Put us off who can. The effort 
was not made. 

We made slow progress until past Annapolis, stop- 
ping often for the ice boat to clear the way. Below 
Annapolis the Bay v/as clear of ice, and we made 
excellent time, reaching Fort Monroe at 8 o'clock next 
morning. Here another attempt was made to find out 
who had transportation and who had not. 

Five guards were placed at the gangway, with bay- 
onets fixed, and orders to let only one man pass at a 
time, while an officer stood by to examine our papers. 
The attempt was vain; again the guards were brushed 
aside; we rush on shore; make a "straight wake" for 
the Provost's office, had our furloughs stamped, rushed 
again to the Quarterm.aster, where we succeeded in 
procuring transportation to City Point. From this 
time all v/ent smoothly until we reached the Point a I 
5:30 Friday evening. Here we had our furloughs 
restamped and boarded a freight train for the front. 

I found my comrades all right, and our little house 
in as good condition as when I left. 



Story of a Volunteer. 247 

The Ninth Corps is under marching orders, and are 
turning over mules, wagons, etc. 

God knows what the future has in store, but the 
memory of those few days spent with my loved family 
will ever be cherished as among the happiest of my life. 



248 A Soldier's Diary. 



CHAPTER XLV. 

Camp before Petersburg, February 7th. 

For three days we have held ourselves in readiness 
to march at a minute's notice. It seems the Rebels, 
alarmed at our advance on Dansville, by way of Wel- 
don, have concentrated their forces to oppose this 
advance. Well may they be alarmed, for, Dansville 
in our possession, all communication by railroad is cut 
off, and Lee's army is shut out of the Confederacy and 
is thrown back on Virginia for supplies. The whole 
movement, on our part, consists in being ready to 
repel attack. We have heard nothing from our left 
today, except the roar of artillery, which, at tim^es, is 
terrific. The v/eather is most uncomfortable for those 
having no shelter. It began to rain at 5 o'clock this 
morning, and has continued through the day, freezing 
as it falls. God pity the wounded who may be 
exposed tonight. 

Through the smoke of battle we are eagerly looking 
for the "bow of peace." The Rebels are now fight- 
ing for terms, and they cannot long maintain the 
unequal contest. 

February 10th, 1865. 

The "great movement by Grant's army," so much 
talked of by correspondents, is still wrapped in mys- 
tery. Nothing definite has yet transpired concerning 



•* 
Ha. 



Story of a Volunteer. 249 

it. It is stated, however, on seemingly good authority, 
that Meade has advanced his lines about four miles, 
not across the railroad, but parallel with it, and is for- 
tifying. Sixteen siege guns have gone out today, 
with which he proposes to "occupy the road." 

I believe this mo^.e is simply to keep Lee occupied 
here, and thereby prevent his interference in other 
quarters. 

February 20th, 1865. 

It has never been so quiet along our lines as the 
past two weeks, there being strict orders against picket 
firing. We are eagerly awaiting news from Sherman, 
and a development of the toils which are being grad- 
ually drawn around Lee's army. Lee has now but 
one line of communication left open, and that will soon 
be closed. 

General Wilcox is in Michigan on leave of absence. 
Furloughs are still freely given, which shows no import- 
ant move is contemplated here at present. Captain 
Sudborough is Acting Engineer of the division during 
the temporary absence of the real one. It is his duty 
to inspect the front line of works every day and report 
their condition. 

Telegraphic dispatches are again in order. Yes- 
terday the troops were drawn up in line, and the glad, 
news of Sherman's wonderful success was read to 
them. 

A salute was fired today in honor of Washington's 
birth. All our batteries were opened, with shot and 
shell, at precisely 12 m., and was briskly returned by 



260 A Soldier's Diary. 

the Rebels. The dangerous "practice" was kept up 
for nearly two hours, and was intensely exciting. Sev- 
eral of our men were killed by bursting shells. 

It has rained all day, a mild, warm rain, and still 
continues. A detail of twenty men from our regiment 
has been at work the past three weeks to provide a 
suitable burial place for our dead. All our dead are 
to be taken up and buried in a proper manner. 

February 24th, 1865. 

More gbrious news from the South. Wilmington 
is ours. Another salute was nred this afternoon, to 
which the Rebels feebly responded. It is impossible 
to describe the effect of these frequent successes upon 
our troops. The utmost enthusiasm prevails. 

The opposite effect is plainly visible across the line. 
It makes itself apparent by frequent desertions. 
Another Captain, with his entire company — sixty men 
— came through the lines of the First Division last 
night, the second instance of the kind this week. Five 
men, with equipments on, came to Division Head- 
quarters today. They were on picket and deserted 
their posts in broad daylight. An early movement 
of the Rebels is confidently expected. Our men are 
ready, with knapsacks packed, to move at tap of drum. 
It is only a precautionary measure, and means, **be 
ready to fight or to pursue.*' 

To attack would be madness on their part; to 
retreat, an act of folly; to remain as they are much 
longer, is impossible. So, at least it seems to me, 
**01d Bobby" may think differently. Deserters say 



Story of a Volunteer. 251 

he has given out word "he will astonish the world 
on the fourth of March." 

It seems the draft is about to be enforced in Michi- 
gan. I do not wonder the new lav/ is a mystery to 
men whose only object is to evade it. The present 
call means men. Paper credits will not avail. 

March 12th. 1865. 

Despite the numerous predictions of newspaper cor- 
respondents to the contrary, quiet, profound and undis- 
turbed, prevails along our lines. We are not "mud 
bound," but are awaiting the movement of the 
immense force Grant is now concentrating near Hatch- 
er's Run, ready to sieze on any advantage that may 
offer and to perform their part in the final struggle 
which cannot be long delayed. 

The First and Second Divisions of the Ninth Corps 
are holding the v/orks around Petersburg, and are 
stretched to their utmost tension. The most difficult 
and complex combinations are about to be brought to 
an issue. If successful, Lee's arm.y is destroyed; the 
rebellion crushed; the war terminated. As I read 
them, "the signs of the times" are full of promise. 

March 13th, 1865. 
I confidently expect another great battle will soon 
be fought. It must come soon. Sherman must be 
checked, and that right speedily, or the Confederacy s 
lost. I believe that Lee will attempt to break our 
lines at Petersburg, with the hope of joining his forces 
to Johnson's to oppose Sherman. I also believe Grant 
will be able to hold him in his present position. 



252 A Soldier's Diary. 

March 17th, 1865. 

Military affairs here are approaching a crisis. 
Everything betokens immediate action. Quartermas- 
ters have sent all superfiuous baggage to Washington, 
and have everything packed, ready to move. Officeis 
and men are sending home their "extras," by ordeio 
from Headquarters. The Second and Fifth Corps 
struck tents at 12 o'clock last night, but had not 
moved at noon today. The Ninth Corps has been 
engaged for several days in throwing up breastworks 
to protect their fiank, which shov/s that we are to hold 
these lines, while all troops on our left will be cut 
loose and sent to some other point. Furloughs con- 
tinue to be granted as freely as last winter, which 
shows Grant is not short of men. 

Mr. Collier started for home yesterday. Mr. 
Woodin leaves tomorrow morning. Colonel Swifr, 
who went home to recruit, is on detached duty in 
Detroit. 

A flag of truce came inside our lines the fifteenth 
inst. Rumor says, "Peace Commissioners." 

March 19th, 1865. 
The pleasant weather of the past week has given 
way to wind and storm. This morning the sun rose 
bright and beautiful, as on preceding days, but before 
noon was nearly obscured by gathering clouds. A 
little after noon the rain began to fall; gently at first, 
and continued through the day, so warm and pleas- 
ant; but as the sun went down the wind veered to the 
southwest — all our worst storms come from that direc- 



Story of a Volunteer. 253 

tion — gradually increasing in force, until now it is 
almost a hurricane. And the rain ! It comes, now in 
great, pattering drops; now in solid sheets; an almost 
resistless flood. My little house rocks and quivers like 
a ship at sea. I have fastened a rubber blanket over 
the top to keep the rain from splashing through. With 
all the wind and rain, it still is warm, and my little 
house is dry and comfortable. But how about the 
pickets, without shelter, fire or exercise; anything to 
protect them from the pelting storm or deepening mud? 
It is now four months since the Ninth Corps took this 
position — four winter months — and the men, during 
all that time, have been on picket as often as every 
third day, besides doing their other duties; and yet, a 
more stalwart, healthy-looking lot of men I never saw. 

During the past week more vigilance than ever has 
been exercised along our lines. The men are required 
to stack arms at dusk, and remain in readiness to fall 
in, with accoutrements on, until 9 o'clock. They 
then retire until 1 o'clock, when they again stack arms 
and watch until morning. 

The long-talked-of demonstration on our left has not 
yet taken place. Correspondents will tell the people 
this storm has caused the delay. In my opinion, the 
storms are innocent in that regard. When the proper 
time comes, or his plans are fully matured. General 
Grant will strike. 



254 A Soldier's Diary. 



CHAPTER XLVI. 

Camp before Petersburg, March 25th, 1865. 

One more "battle fought and victory won" for right 
and freedom. Never was an attack made under more 
favorable circumstances for the Rebels; never was 
repulse more complete. 

The excitement and expectancy of the last two 
weeks had entirely died away. Sutlers had returned, 
and only yesterday General Wilcox's Headquarters 
was enlivened by the presence of ladies. 

This morning I was awakened, about daylight, by 
a single cannon. Soon a well-known sound struck my 
ear; a sound that instanily aroused all my faculties. 
Often had I heard it; at South Mountain, Antietam, 
Fredericksburg, at Cold Harbor, in the Wilderness 
and at Petersburg. 

No, I cannot be mistaken; it is the Rebel "battle 
cry." They are charging our works! But I hear no 
answering shout; no rattling musketry! It cannot be! 
They have heard good news, or are having a big 
drunk. 

These are some of the thoughts that flashed through 
my mjnd as I listened to those fearful yells; more 
hideous, far, than tongue can tell or pen describe. 

I was not long left in doubt. "Fall in. Seven- 
teenth, with guns and equipments," was the order that 
passed from tent to tent. 



Story of a Volunteer. 255 

Then I knew that work was to be done. The 
Rebels had played a * 'Yankee trick" on our pickets by 
sending out a small force in advance, which, by pre- 
tending to desert, threw them off their guard until near 
enough to force them to surrender. Thus an opening 
was made through which they advanced on Fort 
Steadman, taking the garrison completely by surprise, 
most of whom they captured. Then they swept 
down the line, driving the Third Brigade from their 
works and taking possession. 

Thus matters stood at daylight. Fort Steadman in 
their possession, their skirmishers advancing, supported 
by three brigades of infantry. When the Seventeenth 
formed in front of General Wilcox's Headquarters, 
the Rebel skirmishers were within one hundred rods 
of them, evidently bent on paying their respects to the 
General. 

Thinking their presence might be intrusive, at this 
early hour, our boys charged them, as only the Seven- 
teenth can charge, and drove them back upon their 
main body, taking about thirty prisoners. By this 
time the Third Division of the Ninth Corps, held in 
reserve, had formed in front of the gap and checked 
their further advance. The Seventeenth formed on 
the right of the Third Division, and when the final 
charge was made for the recovery of the lost works, 
charged with them and held a position in the line until 
1 o'clock in the afternoon, when they were relieved. 

In this last charge one man of Company G was 
killed, and Captain Sudborough was wounded in the 
right side and arm. 



256 A Soldier's Diary. 

At 2 o'clock we had recovered every foot of lost 
ground, and were as firmly established as before. I 
have heard, as yet, no estimate of our loss, or of the 
Rebels, except in prisoners. We took between three 
and four thousand prisoners, which is more men than 
we had engaged. 

I feel a little curiosity as to the coloring correspon- 
dents will give this affair. Will they acknowledge it 
a surprise? The commander of the fort was taken in 
bed; also most of the garrison. After it was discov- 
ered, it was superbly mzoiaged, and Lee's desperate 
attempt to join his forces with Johnson's was rendered 
abortive. 

March 26th, 1865. 

I have just read the President's Inaugural. I con- 
sider it the most remarkable state paper of modem 
times. Beautiful in its simplicity; grand and majestic 
in its expressions of lofty faith in the "Great Ruler 
of Nations;" it resembles more the production of one 
of Israel's ancient rulers than the Inaugural Address of 
a modern politician. I gathered strength and courage 
from its perusal. ' Cur camp has settled down to its 
usual quiet. Nothing remains to remind the casual 
observer of the strife of yesterday. 

Our men are busily engaged, under cover of night, 
in repairing the damage done our works. Part of our 
regiment went to Hatcher's Run today, and returned 
with the news that the Sixth Corps advanced, and now 
hold one line of Rebel works, and that they took about 
two thousand prisoners. 



Story of a Volunteer. 257 

Poor, old, misguided Robert; every effort to shake 
off the strangling grip with which Grant has throtteled 
him but serves to tighten it. This attack and failure 
proves his weakness beyond a doubt. 

March 30th, 1865. 

My curiosity as to what correspondents might say 
of the battle of the twenty-fifth inst. is partially grati- 
fied by a perusal of the Herald's dispatch. Their 
account of the affair, after daylight, is in the main 
correct, that dated at City Point coming nearest the 
truth. But the facts in regard to the Rebels getting 
possession of the fort are suppressed or misrepresented. 
Neither does General Parks' "official" come nearer 
the mark. 

The fact is, we have one more occasion to thank 
God for saving us from the stupidity of **men in high 
places." 

The long-expected movement on our left is under 
way. Yesterday Army Headquarters moved to Din 
widdie Court House, about four miles beyond Hatch- 
er's Run. Part of the Twenty-fourth Corps and the 
Twenty-fifth corps have joined the expedition, which 
must swell the number to near one hundred thousand 
infantry. 

This force represents the "upper" and Sherman's 
the "nether" mill stones that are grinding the Confed- 
eracy to powder. Meanwhile the post assigned the 
Ninth Corps is one of responsibility. We must hold 
these fines or Grant's supplies are cut off. 

It has rained all day, steadily; a warm, gentle rain 



^68 A Soldier's Diary. 

that seems so much in keeping with the season, I enjoy 
it. What a bright, fresh green it gives to vegetation, 
and how sweetly the new-born flowers look up and 
smile their thankfulness. 

April 1st, 1865. 

The Rebels are very restless in our front. Nearly 
every night this week they have threatened the line in 
front of the Third Division. 

And now, that dark night has "spread her sable 
mantle o'er the earth," and those who remain in camp 
have retired to snatch, perchance, a few hours sleep, 
perchance to be aroused before slumber has closed their 
eyelids, to face war's rude alarms, I sit me down to 
ponder on the whereabouts and doings of General 
Grant during the past four days. 

"Any news from the left?" meet whom you may, is 
the eager inquiry. "Nothing reliable," the unvarying 
reply. Of course, the air is filled with rumors. 

Inside of Petersburg, April 3d, 1865. 

I was cut short off night before last by orders to 
"get ready to move, immediately." Petersburg is 
ours, at last. The fighting yesterday was terrific, last- 
ing from 3 o'clock in the forenoon until dark. The 
Seventeenth was not engaged; was detailed as Provost 
Guard. The First Division entered the city early this 
morning. I can write no more now. Everybody 
shouting. My heart overflows with happiness, too 
deep for words. 

April 4th. 

I have slept one night in Petersburg. Again, with 
knapsack packed, I am ready for the move. I have 



Story of a Volunteer. 



no time to chronicle particulars; would that I had. 
This much I will say: I am about as happy as man 
can be far from his loved ones. Yesterday was a glor- 
ious day for the Nation and for us. 

April 7th. 

These are busy days with us; days of glorious 
activity, wherein we reap fruits of former toil. Our 
harvest time of victory, watered by tears and enriched 
by blood, is yielding bountifully. I have no time to 
give details; not even an outline of what has transpired 
during the past week. 

We left Petersburg day before yesterday, and 
marched out on the South Side Railroad to near 
Southerland Station, where every man, not otherwise 
employed, was placed on picket. Yesterday we 
started at 9 o'clock and marched sixteen miles, which 
brings us twenty-five miles from Petersburg. We 
expect the cars will run as far as this place tomorrow. 

April 8th. 
We have remained all day in camp, expecting, each 
moment, the order to move. Last night was a night 
of rest, the first in seven long, weary days. Today 
we are ready to march, or fight, or do any work 
remaining to be done, to finish up the job we have in 
hand. I do not, however, anticipate any more fight- 
ing, unless with small bands of guerillas. Our men 
are scouring the woods in every direction, but with 
small success. 



260 A Soldier's Diary. 

Good news comes pouring in. Last night an 
"official" from General Grant was read, telling us of 
the capture of six Major Generals, fourteen pieces of 
artillery and thirteen thousand prisoners. This even- 
ing it is reported that Lee, hard pressed in front and 
rear, has asked Grant for terms of surrender. Thus 
the good work goes bravely on. I read of great 
rejoicing in the North over our success. AX^at, then, 
must be our emotions? Words cannot express them. 
I can only say, in all sincerity, I am glad I contributed 
my mite to bring about this glorious result. Colonel 
Swift has been appointed Provost Marshal of this dis- 
trict, and has asked me to act as clerk. 

April 10th, 1865. 
It has just now been officially announced that Lee 
has surrendered the last remnant of his broken army. 
Everyone is wild with joy. As for myself, I cannot 
write! I cannot talk; only my glad heart cries 
*'Hosanna! Hosanna in the Highest; in the Highest!" 



Story of a Volunteer. 261 



CHAPTER XLVII. 

Hobbs House. Va.. April 1 0th. 1865. 

Transportation has nearly failed since we left Peters- 
burg. The cars are running past here, but the roads 
are in such condition the troops can with difficulty be 
supplied with rations. Captain Sudborough has left 
us on twenty days' leave to visit his home in Michi- 
gan. He goes by way of Richmond, fearing he may 
have no other opportunity to see that famous city, the 
goal of our ambition the last four years. During the 
last two days great changes have been made in our 
police regulations. The General has put his machine 
in running order, and we can now turn out "citizens 
of the United States" with neatness and dispatch. 

Nearly every man, woman and child in this County 
have taken the oath of allegiance. The people of this 
County are quietly resuming their usual avocations. 
From the little knowledge of human nature I possess, 
I believe a majority of them to be more truly loyal now 
to the "Old Union," as they term it, than they ever 
were before. 

April 19th, 1865. 
Yesterday afternoon we received sad news from 
our Nation's Capital; news that caused each soldier's 
cheek to blanch, as if in presence of some dire calam- 



262 A Soldier's Diary. 

ity. Cur President is murdered; ruthlessly struck 
down by an assassin's hand! The demon of Seces- 
sion, in his dying agony, poured out the vials of its 
wrath on our Executive. T Imagination cannot paint 
the whirlwind of revengeful wrath that swept over the 
army; the strong desire, openly expressed, to avenge 
his death by annihilating the people whose treason 
brings forth and nourishes such monsters,.^ Woe to 
the armed Rebel, now and henceforth, who makes the 
least resistance. 

To illustrate the feeling of the men, I will write 
down an incident that occurred in our regiment. We 
have one reptile left, and only one, to my knov/ledge. 
When the news reached us, he was heard to say, with 
an oath: 'Tm glad of it. !f I had been there, I 
would have helped to do it." 

Before his words had time to cool, he was seized 
by the men near him.; a tent rope was thrown around 
his neck, and he was hustled toward a tree, with the 
intent to hang him. The officers interfered, and sent 
him under guard to the "bull pen." 

Tomorrow is to be observed as a day of mourning 
throughout the army. Never was man more sincerely 
mourned than will be Abraham Lincoln, and in his- 
tory his name will be enrolled beside our Washington. 

Alexandria, Va., April 24th, 1865. 
One year ago we passed through this city on our 
way to Richmond. Today we tread its streets with 
buoyant feet, on our way home, our work accom- 
plished. 



Story of a Volunteer. 263 

I am filled with gratitude that I am permitted to see 
this day. 'Tis a long, weary road, the one we trav- 
eled, but what matter now? A year's campaign! 
Surely it has few parallels in history. Eleven months, 
lacking nine days, the Ninth Corps occupied the 
trenches before Petersburg, under fire both night and 
day; but the grand results more than compensate for 
all our sufferings. 

We are going home, soon as the coils of red tape 
that bind us hand and foot can be unwound. 

April 28th, 1865. 

We are now encamped on tlie homeward side of 
Washington, about two miles east of Georgetown, 
where we are to remain, so say our officers, until mus- 
tered out. Of course, that day will not be revealed 
to us until the date of its arrival. It would not be 
military to give out information in advance. I form 
my conclusions after reading the signs of the times, 
and am convinced our final muster-out will occur the 
last of May or first of June. 

Only one thing can delay us, and that not for long; 
and that is Sherman's unfortunate treaty with Johnson. 
That was a sad mistake, but I think General Grant 
will easily correct it. 

Tenleytown, D. C, April 29th, 1865. 

I can write of nothing, just now, but "Home, 

Sweet Home;" can think of nothing else. Is it a 

wonder? When work was to be done, did I not set 

my face, like flint, to do it? And now, the task 



264 A Soldier's Diary. 

complete, our Nation's unity restored, slavery wiped 
out, and peace secured, is it any wonder my impatien* 
soul chafes at restraint? But, patience, thou spirit ot 
unrest. I have been making out muster rolls today; 
tomorrow we muster. Captain Sudborough has 
returned. He learned, in Philadelphia, that we were 
coming, and hastened to join us, that he might go 
home with the regiment. Every detailed man has beeii 
returned. The next muster rolls I make will be to 
muster us out of the service. 

May 4th. 1865. 

The work of preparation progresses, but oh, so 
slowly. But the work is gigantic. The dismantling 
of this mighty engine of war; of returning this "citizen 
army" to its legitimate and proper field of action, 
transforming it to an army of citizens, is an herculean 
task. Oflicers are busy arranging their aaffirs for the 
final settlement. 

Everything that has passed into or through their 
hands must be accounted for. There is but one "loop 
hole" for the dishonest officer. "Lost in battle," like 
charity, can be made to cover a "multitude of sins." 

Cur pay rolls are completed and have been sent to 
the Paymaster. We draw clothing nearly every day, 
as the officers insist every man shall wear a new suit 
home. Guns, too, are being issued to every enlisted 
man, as we return our guns to the State Arsenal. 

Governor Crapo and Senators Chandler and How- 
ard are in V/ashington, and come out occasionally to 
see us. 



•^ m^ 



Story of a Volunteer. 265 

Drill and dress parade — "fuss and feathers" — are 
the order of every day. 

May 8th, 1865. 

Two weeks today v/e arrived in sight of Washing- 
ton, from our year's campaign, crovvTied, this time, 
with victory. Why the impatience with which I 
await my discharge? I wonder, am I homesick, at 
this late day, just on the point of going home? 

I certainly am not well; it is equally true I can 
think of naught but home. But, I am better than 
when I came; therefore I will write it down — impa- 
tience. 

There are rumors of grand reviews, triumphal pro- 
cessions, and all the rest of it; and our flag, too, must 
have all the various battles in which we were engaged 
inscribed upon it. And officers are in no hurry to lay 
aside their trappings. Why should they be? It 
clothes them with authority which, lain aside, they 
never more can wear. 

May 12th, 1865. 
I received a letter from home last night, dated the 
sixth inst. Its effect was magical, and confirmed me 
in the suspicion that I am — a little — homesick. Of 
course, I must know that arrangements are being made 
to send us home, and that the time is near at hand. 
Red tape requires time, and its fountain head is here. 
"How not to do it" seems to be the study of all offi- 
cials in Washington. Still, there are som.e things to 
encourage us. Two regiments from the Ninth Corps 



A Soldier's Diary. 



have started for home — the Thirty-first and Thirty- 
second Maine went yesterday. 

May 19th. 1865. 

The grand review has been officially announced to 
come off on Tuesday and Wednesday of next week, in 
Washington. The First Division, Ninth Corps, is 
being reviewed this afternoon by Generals Grant, 
Sheridan and others. Our brigade commander tells 
us this is to be our last demonstration; no more drills; 
no more reviews. 

Probably the First Division will be required to do 
guard duty in Washington until after the review. 
That will all be over next week. Captain Sud- 
borough tells me he has learned for a fact we will 
not be kept here longer than next week. 



% ■. 



Story of a Volunteer. 267 



CHAPTER XLVIII. 

Tenler^own, D. C, May 21st, 1865. 

The long-delayed, eagerly-looked-for order has 
been issued; read to us on dress parade. "All troops 
whose term of service expires on or before the first day 
of October, 1865, shall be mustered out immedi- 
ately." and our officers are to make out their final 
muster-out rolls without delay. Recruits are to be 
transferred to veteran regiments, which will be retained 
for a time. 

Five copies of muster roils are to be made out, and 
a descriptive list of each recruit, of whom there are 
thirty-three in our company. The glad day on which 
we bid farewell to "Dixie" does not yet appear, but ! 
can now await, with patience, the necessary time. 

May 24th, 1865. 
The grand review is over. No doubt it was impos- 
ing, beyond the power of words to describe. Now 
we can begin our work in earnest. We had positive 
orders from Headquarters to do nothing until that event 
was disposed of. We could not get blank muster 
rolls until tonight. Working little by little, I have 
prepared the descriptive lists and accounts of our 
recruits, and have put company papers in proper shape. 
Our departure now depends on dispatch; first come. 



A Soldier's Diary. 



first served. I must now forget my "pains and aches" 
and settle down to a week of persevering effort. 

The captain gives me leave to detail as many men 
as I can use. 

May 31st, 1865. 
Dearest Wife: 

I cannot rest this night without writing you a few 
lines to report progress. Have we not been busy these 
last — I cannot tell how many — days? To me, it 
seems an age. Our papers are all complete and have 
been sent to Headquarters for inspection. Our roll 
accounts for one hundred seventy-three men; this for 
Company G. Of the above number, twenty-three are 
present to be discharged. 

The Twentieth Michigan was mustered out this 
morning, and will start for home tomorrow morning. 
We expect to be mustered out tomorrow; certainly 
the next day. My anxiety is for you, my wife, fear- 
ing the suspense is greater than you can bear. 

It is useless for you to write to me again, darling, 
and this is the last letter you will get from your soldier. 
Before this reaches you, I will be on my homeward 
way, a full-fledged citizen, and as I come, my glad 
heart will sing the joyous refrain: "Oh, I come, I 
come, ye have called me long; I come o'er the moun- 
tain with light and song." 

Yours lovingly. 



J?D-94 



• ^ 



Story of a Volunteer. 269 

June 8th, 1865. 

We were discharged at Delaney House, D. C, on 
the third day of June, and next day took cars for 
Detroit, where we arrived on the seventh, and were 
disbanded. We are no longer an organized body. 
Each individual is at liberty to consult his own inter- 
ests or inclinations. After exchanging photos and 
kindly regards with my late comrades, I took the mid- 
night train for Jackson, where I arrived at 5 o'clock 
in the morning. 

It is now five miles to my country home. I lost no 
time in friendly greetings by the way, but leaped from 
the cars before they fairly stopped; passed swiftly up 
the track to the first street crossing; up "Moody Hill'* 
and along the "Gravel;" turned to the left; on down 
the "Marvin Hill" to the old "Clinton House;" again 
to the left, past "Markham's" and "Shipman's," to 
the little school house on the corner. I am now one 
mile from home. What a beautiful world it is, this 
bright June morning; and how familiar the sights and 
sounds that greet my senses. 

The trees, dressed in their robes of darkest green, 
wave me a welcome. The wayside thorn, arrayed in 
spotless white, doth waft to me its richest perfume. 
The feathered songsters, their bright plumage flash- 
ing in the sunlight, attune for me their sweetest melody, 
and every nerve and fiber of my being responds to these 
kindly greetings. 

I am almost home; just around the corner. I see 
the cottage now, set in a grove I planted many years 
ago, when first my mate and I did build our humble 



270 A Soldier's Diary. 

nest. I wrote them yesterday I would break my fast 
with them this morning. I wonder, did they get it? 
Yes, they are on the lookout. In the east door, that 
commands this angle of the road, stands my darling, 
waving her handkerchief, her dear face transfigured 
with joy and happiness. In the south door is my 
eldest daughter, clapping her hands in unaffected 
delight. Another daughter and my son have climbed 
the road fence, and are giving vent to their joy in 
childish boisterousness, while *'pet," the little lass, is 
running down the street, fast as her little feet can carry 
her, to leap into her father's arms and bid him 
Welcome Home. 




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